Fall Into The Sky
by Eboni
Summary: There are many definitions of brotherhood, but only one holds true for these boys. Thrown together for an evil cause but sticking togther for a cause of their own, four young men come into their own while hurdling all obstacles tossed into their paths.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first X-Men Evolution fan fiction. I have followed the series since it premiered, and I have fallen in love with the fan fiction, especially Brotherhood fan fiction. So...I decided to try my hand at one. This one is a little AU, because I alter the events of a few episodes, but who doesn't? Lol. I haven't changed anything major, and I haven't dropped random new mutant girls into the plot with awesome powers but they are so misunderstood. I also don't have any pairings other than the ones you see in the series. Sorry, but I'm not into romance. This is just a pure and simple drama with all of the boys getting a special spotlight.

Well, I hope you enjoy the story. I'm putting up the prologue and first chapter. I actually have up to chapter 11 or 12 written, I just want to see how this does. Take care and please review!

  
  


Fall Into The Sky

  
  


Prologue:

"Have you eaten anything at all today?" 

The platinum blond drew himself out of his daze momentarily to shake his head negatively. His pale hands remained crossed and limp in his lap, as he sat rocking back and forth in the creaking wicker chair staring out of the large picture window. He'd been like that for hours after the funeral, unresponsive and distant. 

"You want me to bring you something?"

Once again the silvery head moved from side to side, frosty blue eyes never tearing away from the window. It was like he was searching for something, or rather someone, who he would never find again.

"Pietro, you have to eat, yo. You'll get... sick," Todd Tolensky couldn't find any lighter words that he felt comfortable saying in description of how his friend's impossibly fast metabolism would devour his body if he didn't cater to it constantly. 

His words went unheard or just simply unheeded. The only sounds in the room, besides the ones of breathing, were the maddening creaks of the rocking chair. With each rock the noise seemed to amplify, until Todd covered his ears and backed out of the room. He left the door open a crack and moved on down the hallway, back downstairs where his two other friends sat in the dreary dimness of the rundown kitchen. Both looked up at him as he entered.

Lance Alvers, dark eyes large and shadowed, raised his eyebrows imploringly, his shaggy brown hair falling over his forehead in messy bangs. "Did he say anything to you?"

Todd shook his head, "No man, no."

Fred Dukes frowned, his burly frame hunched, his normally ruddy complexion a bit pale. "Maybe we shouldn't leave him alone up there."

"He don't want us, Freddy," Todd said sullenly, flopping down in a chair beside the bigger teen. "He wants her."

Lance gave a half-hearted snort, that sounded suspiciously like a smothered sniffle, and shakily said, "And it's killing him to just be realizing that now."

"And it killed her to realize it then," Todd couldn't help but add, blinking away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

She'd acted like she hated him, but in the end, she'd sacrificed herself to save him, and Wanda's only reasoning behind it had been: "'...he's my phal, my binak...I'm supposed to protect him." 

She died a few hours later, in the mansion of Charles Xavier, in the sole company of her brother. 

"'Akana mukav tut le Devlesa"' he'd told her in their native tongue kissing her cooling hands, feeling her spirit transcend the room. I leave you to God.

But who does that leave me with?

Pietro Maximoff pondered this question, as he pushed open the window and climbed up to stand precariously on the sill. With the cold rough wind teasing him, calling him a coward, and taunting him to defy gravity, he felt he couldn't resist the challenge. Spreading his arms to their full span and tilting his head back to take a deep breathe, he tilted forward to join the wind and merge with the blue sky.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Whoo hoo, you're still here. I guess that means you're giving me another chance. Glad to hear it! I hope you like this chapter. A plot will start to develop...soon...I promise lol. Keep reading and thanks!

Chapter 1  
  


"One day I want to come in here and hear you say to me that you've got a girlfriend, Pietro. You're too sweet and handsome a boy to be single. Why, if I was your age, I'd scoop you up and have you proposing at graduation."

Pietro Maximoff smiled kindly at the older woman, taking her soft wrinkled hand into his own, "What makes you think you'd have to be my age for me to propose to you, huh, Miss Pearl? You're beautiful enough as it is; what more could I want?"

Miss Pearl laughed, her watery blue eyes smiling. Patting his hand in hers, "I bet you said that to Sharon too."

Pietro's eyes widened innocently, his face a mask of mock injury, "Miss Pearl! Are you accusing me of being insincere?" 

"You, my darling, are full of shit."

They chuckled. "Maybe so, but I know you still love me."

"Who wouldn't?" she tucked her purchases into her large purse. "Take care, dear, and mind you bring me your next report card. Sally and Mae are always going on about how smart you are, but I won't know how much cash to give you if I can't count those A's myself."

Pietro raised an eyebrow and shook his head, "See ya later Miss P." He closed the cash register and leaned on the counter to watch and make sure she got to her car all right.

"Pietro, I'm going to close shop tonight. Go on and take that order to Elena, before it gets dark, honey," a light voice called to him from across the store.

"Alright Aunt Mae; see ya Aunt Sal," he removed his backpack from the shelf beneath the counter and then slipped the small brown paper-wrapped books into it. The sky was just starting to take on a pinkish tint, signaling the end of the day. He turned back to wave to his "aunts" through the bookstore's picture window, rolling his eyes as they both blew different variations of kisses at him. 

The bookstore was personally owned by the two women who'd "adopted" him since the first day he'd discovered the shop, a week after his arrival in Bayville. He loved to read and with his inhuman speed he could devour a book in minutes. He preferred classics to the new stuff being released though, and had searched the town for a decent half priced bookstore. Books For Less was small and made virtually no profit, but had been Pietro's dream come true. In there, he'd found the original version of The Never Ending Story and good and bad Shakespeare quartos alike. So amused by his enthusiasm, the ladies invited him back the next day to have a book chat with them. Within days he'd been taken into the strange but loving old family of the antique bookstore. 

Books For Less had regular customers, all over 55, retired, and mostly single women, who met regularly on Saturdays for book chats and tea. Then they had the occasional newcomer, sometimes they were inducted into the book society and sometimes not. Pietro found himself the youngest, and most "precious" new initiate. He returned to the store everyday, slowing himself down enough to choose one book, and spend an afternoon reading it while keeping Sally and Mae company. 

Sometimes he'd helped out around the store, stocking shelves, and doing handiwork. After two weeks of all the free labor, Sally and Mae offered him an after school job. The store didn't bring in much money, but the two older ladies had their own funds and mostly paid him out of pocket. If he hadn't needed the money, he would have declined. He liked helping them because....well because they were nice to him. He liked the old women that hung around the store, and he was often invited to come visit their homes on the weekends and had his fill of homemade culinary delights made especially for him. 

He kicked it into high gear once he was out of the view of the store window. His "Aunt" Elena, a tiny Romani woman, lived on the other side of town, and there was no way he was moving at snail speed to go that far. He slowed when he reached her large white wood porch and knelt to scratch her cat, Mathilda's, chin. The porch creaked a bit under his weight, and he made note of that. He'd offer to fix it when he had some free time. He smiled at the rocking chairs with the checkered cushion and the small table with a forgotten crossword puzzle spread across it. He knocked on the door lightly, after opening the screen door. Aunt Elena answered after the second knock and beamed at him spreading her arms for him to give her a brief hug. He had to lean over a bit to plant a small kiss on her check. The woman was nearly a head shorter than him. "Pietro! You've brought my books! Come in, come in; you're letting in the mosquitos."

He entered and shut the heavy wooden door behind him. The room was lit by many colorful antique lamps rather than a main light. He followed her through the landing into the living room, where he was always amazed at the sheer amount of decoration the woman was able to squeeze into the room without it looking tacky. All of the heavy dark wood furniture was covered with lace and doilies, lined with pictures of smiling or solemn relatives, and knickknacks from this country and that. He set his bag on the floor and removed the brown package, handing it to her as she reentered the room holding out a glass of room temperature lemonade, no ice. He thanked her and had a seat as she opened her package and examined her new/old books. 

He sank back into the plush chair, relishing the time spent in such a comforting environment, for he knew in a little while he would have to return home. He gazed at woman as she cooed her pleasure in Romanian. "How is school, Pietro?"

"It's going pretty well, Matusa."

"You look tired; are you sleeping enough?"

"I sleep ok."

"Eating well?"

"Oh yeah," Pietro grinned lazily, he ate more than a healthy horse usually. Being Quicksilver came at a price; he had to constantly refuel to keep himself at optimal condition. 

Aunt Elena was frowning, leaning forward to touch his brow, she said, "You are too pale and too skinny." Her words were brief and to the point, "Where you live...this foster place, this woman, Darkholme, does not take very good care of you. You are not happy there."

Pietro sighed, knowing where the conversation was going, for it had been there many times before. Elena Parnova wanted Pietro to live with her. She was old and lonely, having a young boy around the house to help out and keep her company would be to her advantage. She was also a Roma of the same tribe Pietro was, Sinte, so they spoke the same dialect of Romanes and also the common tongue of Romanian. She felt a sort of responsibility to him. Then, there was the fact that Pietro couldn't deny: she genuinely cared about him. He wanted to agree to her offer more than he'd ever let her know. In her home, he would flourish. The environment was stable, loving, and he wouldn't have to worry about where his next meal was coming from. He'd be away from... 

"I'm alright Matusa," Pietro said softly, rising slowly. He pressed another kiss against her cheek in parting. "Don't worry about me."

He let himself out, pausing on the porch to speedily fill in the empty blanks left on the crossword puzzle before taking off again.

If he moved out of the Boarding House and stayed with Aunt Elena, he's be away from his father. A man he should by all means hate, but he just couldn't. As much as he liked to pretend and put up fronts of nonchalance, it wasn't in him to hate. He stood on the broken porch of the large house he shared with his 3 teammates and "brothers." All any of them had was each other, if he moved out he'd be away from his father, but he'd also hurt his friends beyond repair. 

He opened the unlocked front door and stepped in. He chose not to alert anyone to his presence by announcing his arrival. He set his book bag down and ventured into the kitchen to see what they had to eat.  
  


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Fred Dukes added more water to the pan of tomato sauce to make it stretch further, and turned the fire down beneath it as small bubbles rose to the surface of the red goo. Spaghetti was a common dish in the Boarding House, ingredients were cheap, it was easy to make, and no one could complain about not liking it. He poured in more salt and pepper, and turned his attention back to the boiling noodles. He'd used half a whole package that time, and was silently trying to assure himself that Lance wouldn't get that angry when he found out. They would have to eventually eat it anyway, after all. It was just when food was already prepared it was easier not to limit yourself, and eat it all up. That was when Lance started enforcing that they cook in daily rations. 

Lance had been doing a lot of enforcing lately. Ever since Mystique vanished, Lance had dubbed himself head of the household, just because he was oldest. Fred would have complained more, but Lance was also the only one with a steady real paying job. His money went towards bills and groceries, so everyone figured he should have say on when lights where to be turned on or off, and what was to be eaten or not. Pietro had a job, but it was only for a few hours after school and some weekends. He didn't bring in much cash, and Lance always insisted he use it on himself. Todd probably could have gotten a job too, but Lance forbid it; said he didn't need anymore reasons to flunk out of algebra. 

Now Lance was on his case about getting a job, and Fred did feel like a freeloader, but looking as he did, it was hard for places to even consider hiring him. He was too large and too clumsy, and he refused to go back to being in freak shows for money. He smelled smoke; oh no...the hamburger meat! He'd forgotten all about it!

"Watch it Freddy; you'll-set-your-big-ass-on-fire," suddenly Pietro was beside him with an oven mitt lifting the smoking skillet from the stove and rushing it over to the sink to put out the flames. 

Fred blushed in embarrassment. He just couldn't do anything right, and it seemed the others were always around to see that. "Well, I think this is done." Pietro was frowning into the sink. He whipped around and smiled at Fred teasingly, "Look on the bright side, at-least-we-know-no-one-will-get-bacterial-food-poisoning-from-undercooked-meat."

"I ruin everything," Fred grumbled. 

"Hey, you do not.... uh...ok, well... You don't mean to," Pietro looked to be at a loss for words; a strange expression for him. "Uh...hey, it's salvageable. Not all of it's burnt, and you and me eat just about anything anyway... We could separate all of this into burned and slightly singed piles and give the slightly singed to Lance and Todd, and we eat the rest."

"There's more burned than anything, I bet."

"Then more for us!" Pietro looked victorious , and got to work on his plan, "Hey- pay-attention-to-the-noodles-man; those go wrong and there ain't nothing we can do to fix em'."

"Yeah," Fred turned back to the sauce and noodles stirring one or the other occasionally. He was glad Pietro had turned up when he did. Though the quick moving younger teen made him nervous with his fast-talk, large vocabulary, and eery manner of appearing right in front of or beside someone with no warning, he had some nicer qualities that comforted Fred at times. Sometimes, when in a good mood, as he usually was when he returned home from the bookstore, he was kind to Fred, helping him out, and assuring him he wasn't as dumb and clumsy as he looked and acted at times. He removed the sauce from the fire and turned the heat down on noodles. 

"How was work?"

"Great, got a new shipment of cool old stuff. I get to go through it all tomorrow and figure out what should be offered to the public, what is too precious to part with, and what's junk. Can't wait. Oh...Miss Martha is making gingerbread again; she said she'd bring me two loaves." 

Fred licked his lips, dreaming of the sweet, spicy dessert melting in his mouth. He glanced back at his slender friend, who was setting the small kitchen table while humming to himself. He hated how the boy could eat almost as much as he could and not gain a pound. They were literally genetic opposites, Fred's mutation made him hungry all the time and gain weight, even if he didn't eat, and Pietro's kept him starving, but for every pound Fred picked up, he lost. 

"Hey what's burnin' in here, yo?" Todd Tolensky came into the kitchen cautiously, he looked from Pietro to Fred yellow tinted eyes curious. 

"Don't worry about it, Frog-boy; you'll eat whatever's on the table," Pietro said rather snidely. He moved quickly and ducked under one of Fred's massive arms to abduct the pan of tomato sauce. He then poured half of it into another pan, then added the slight burned meat to original pot, and the charred almost beyond recognition meat to the new pan. He stirred vigorously and set both pots back on the stove, smirking at Fred. 

Todd stuck his long green tongue out at Pietro, who shuddered with distaste. "Keep that thing in your mouth when in the kitchen. No one here- but you- likes the possibility of slime in their food."

"Hey, my tongue is not slimey! You wanna see slime, Quickie?" Todd was getting aggravated as usual when Pietro started slinging insults at him. 

"If-you-so-much-as-aim-that-muck-at-me..." Pietro began, as Todd got down in his natural crouch and starting making loud demonstrative noises in his throat like he was hocking up slime ready to be shot at Pietro. 

Before the first splash of slimey saliva could fly, Fred put himself between the two. "Hey! Both of you cut it out! Don't you ever get tired of teasing and arguing with each other?"

"No," Todd frowned.

"Uh-uh," Pietro shook his head negatively.

Don't get mad...don't get mad....Fred had to calm himself. When he got mad, he broke things, and the house was already run down enough. He took a deep breath; he was older and bigger than the both of them...they should listen to him. "Todd, why don't you go back to what you were doing before you came in here, and Pietro...go read something. I think I can handle the rest of dinner."

Blue and gold eyes stared at him momentarily, then Pietro was gone, and Todd was hopping away. 

Fred let out a breath of relief; that had been easy. 

A furious howl of disgust from Pietro startled Fred and almost made him turn over the noodle-pot. There were a few loud crashes and high pitched screams of distress from Todd. Fred closed his eyes; he'd thought too soon. 

He took the noodles off the fire and went to drain them over the sink. He'd let them kill each other, so long as they stayed out of the kitchen with it.  
  


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Lance Alvers parked his jeep in the driveway, and cut the ignition. He rolled his eyes as he glanced at the gas gage again. For some reason his mind kept trying to convince him the gas tank wasn't really nearly empty, if he looked away and looked back the needle would be at the "F."

Yeah right and if he clapped his hands, he could save a fairy. He trudged to the front door, thinking about how someone really needed to get around to fixing the hinges on the back door. He would have gone in that way, but he didn't feel like wrestling with it that night. He was tired, and his back hurt from lifting boxes and stocking shelves. He'd gotten stuck with the produce section, for he'd once again been the only person who'd showed up for their shift and was flexible enough to stay overtime because he really needed the extra money. He was waiting for a promotion; everyone else in the store who'd been there as long as he had was now on register or bagging. He knew he was being duped; he was too hard of a worker, and the new kids coming in were too lazy. He should quit; he bet he could find a better job where his employer wouldn't take advantage of him so...but he couldn't gamble like that with his income. What if he didn't find a better job? He knew of some people looking for after school jobs that were about to give up the search. No, he had to stay where he knew there would be money. He had a family to support. 

That made him smile to think about, and want to cry in frustration at the same time. He wanted to smile, because he actually had people he could refer to as family for once in his life. People he cared for and he believed cared for him back. That warm feeling kept him from throwing down his Food Lion apron and saying to hell with it. He wanted to cry because...because he was 17, going to school, and working to keep a scrap of food on his plate and the plates of his family, heat in their rooms, and water to bath in. He wasn't getting to be himself, young and unrestrained. He always had too much to think about. He worried about everything. He worried about Fred's self-esteem problems, about Pietro's dating habits, and about Todd's unhygienic rituals. He worried Social Services would come and take them all away, and he'd never see the ones he thought of as younger brothers again. He worried Mystique would return and punish them for not looking for her, for not helping her during the disastrous Asteroid M incident. Maybe she'd throw them all out on the street, then what would they do? The only wonderful thing about the Boarding House was, it was paid for. Lance didn't have to bother with rent. If they had to get an apartment or something... Lance quickly brushed away that thought, as his belly burned in sympathy with him. 

The smell of spaghetti assaulted him upon entrance, and his stomach churned. Spaghetti again. It was easy, cheap, no one complained... yet. Placing a hand against his aching middle he bypassed the dark kitchen, wanting to lie down and sleep... forever. But that wasn't an option, he had homework, and then he would probably have to help Todd with his homework. Freddy couldn't help him, because Freddy had enough trouble doing his own homework. Pietro couldn't help him, because Pietro talked too fast and got too impatient when Todd couldn't follow him. 

The den was as dim as the kitchen only lit by the brilliant blue glow of the television. Pietro was draped over the couch dead to the world. Lance looked at his watch with a frown, he hadn't gotten in that late had he.... 8:30. He moved to the couch and sat down awkwardly with half his butt on the first cushion. The speed demon was very slender, but he found ways to make his small mass take up more space than what was necessary. Gently he placed a hand on his back and gave him a little shake, "Hey, Pi... wake up."

He got a grunt, and a, "Not now Melissa..."

Melissa? Parker? Hmm, Lance was impressed, the girl was a varsity cheerleader with legs for days and amazing breast. Pietro was sleeping with Melissa Parker? When and why wasn't Lance aware of this? 

"Guess again, sweet'ums," Lance tickled the boy under his rib cage, making him curl in on himself, kicking Lance. 

"What?" blue eyes snapped open, confused at first by the scenery, then coming to attention. He glanced at Lance, "What?" he asked again, more mildly.

"Hi, to you too," Lance snorted smirking at the unamused expression etched on his pale friend's face. "You feel ok, man? It's 8:30 and you're asleep."

"I'm fine," Pietro got comfortable again, and shut his eyes. "You, on-the-other-hand, look like shit. Do YOU feel ok?"

Lance was annoyed at the way Pietro always found ways to turn the conversation around, "I'm tired. Where are Todd and Fred?"

"Fred's in his room... Todd can drop dead."

Lance rolled his eyes, "What happened this time?"

"He slimed my dresser."

Lance wondered where he would locate the new Todd-sized holes in the wall that had undoubtably been the results of Pietro's short temper. "I swear you two are like toddlers. Can you go one day without bickering and trying to kill each other?"

"If you can get Todd to-take-a-bath, teach-him-proper-etiquette, and-dry-up-his- mucus-glands, then I-might-be-willing-to-give-it-a-shot."

Lance shook his head, then knitted his brows at the fact that Pietro had gone completely still again. He touched his forehead. "I said 'I'm fine,' Momma Lance."

"Yeah, yeah," Lance pulled himself from the couch, he wouldn't fuss over someone who obviously didn't appreciate his concern. He ventured upstairs, scanning the walls for new damage. None found, but he was still wary. The door to Todd's room was closed and light shone beneath the door. Lance knocked twice, before opening it. The younger boy was lying on his stomach on his bed with a comic book open in front of him. He jerked at Lance's entrance, "Uh...I .... I was just taking a study break, yo. Look," he raised the comic book, and underneath it was his biology book. 

Lance knew he should have given him the third degree, and sat and watched him at least start his work, but he was just too damn tired. "Whatever Todd, just make sure your homework gets done, ok. The next test you flunk the teacher's gonna call home, and want to speak to Ms. Darkholme. I can forge her signature really good, but I do bad impersonations. Get the picture?"

Todd grimaced, "Yeah..." He looked sadly at his comic book, before dog-earing it and putting it away to start on his homework. Lance closed the door back. He walked passed Fred's room, the radio was playing in there. Fred liked to listen to radio epics. Lance thought they were cheesy beyond belief, but if they made Freddy smile he would never express his true feelings about them. Fred smiles were so rare, for a while Lance wasn't even sure if they existed. The big guy was always so down on himself. Lance had caught him one time glaring at his reflection in a full length mirror, pinching his gut and saying hateful things to his reflected image. He noted the pain in his eyes whenever Pietro walked into a room he happened to be in, or when he thought Lance wasn't paying attention and he stared at him. Lance and Pietro's mutations didn't make them socially unacceptable. Fred and Todd were easily singled out and teased. He knocked on Fred's door gently, and opened it a crack, "I'm home, Freddy."

"Just now?"

"Yeah."

"Did you eat?" Lance chuckled quietly, Pietro had called him "Momma." That title should have been reserved for Fred... Lance was more of a father figure. His eyes grew large as he contemplated that. If Fred was Momma and he was Dad, wouldn't that make them... and then Todd and Pietro would be their spawn. Which would mean that he and Fred...oh yuck! Never mind. 

"I'll get something later, Fred. I'm gonna get started on some homework."

"Ok."

He pulled the door closed, and then shut himself in his own room. The walls were bare, aside from one wall with a poster of a rock group on it. He wasn't even sure if he'd heard anything by this particular group, they just looked interesting, the poster was cheap, and his walls were unbearable blank. He kicked the growing pile of dirty clothes out of his way, and flopped down on his unmade bed. He yawned loudly, and hugged his pillow to his face. Maybe he'd take a little nap before he started on his work, a little rest couldn't hurt. Before he knew it his eyes were closing.  


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Todd Tolensky stared at the small text with a look of incomprehension on his face. His mind was still on Shredder and Krang about to take over the world with the Ninja Turtles nowhere in sight. It was hard to concentrate when one's mind is that preoccupied. Perhaps he should finish reading the rest of the comic, or at least pass that cliffhanger before trying to do the assigned reading for class he was certain Ms. York was going to give a pop quiz over. 

He reached for the comic book, letting the text book slide from its precarious perch on the bed. As he gazed at the colorful pages of the graphic novel, he began to feel guilty. He'd told Lance he was going to do his homework. It wasn't that he had a problem with lying, he just didn't like doing it to Lance. The guy was just too good to him. He looked after him, stuck up for him, and actually gave a damn about him. The least he could do was make Lance's life a little easier, and do what he was supposed to. Lance would freak out if someone from the school called. The poor guy was stressed enough. 

Todd sighed and put down the comic again in favor of the hateful textbook. Ooh, amoebas... 

The door to his room crashed open, "Todd, there is still slime on my dresser," the silver haired teen's voice was tightly controlled, but the twitching of the mouth muscles let Todd know he was pissed. He grinned devilishly. He loved getting on Pietro's nerves. He was such an easy target. "Sounds like a personal problem to me, yo."

Pietro was dangerously still, his eyes icy. He'd kept an arm behind his back since his entry, but slowly he brought that arm forward. Todd blinked, then gasped, "Hey! That's my Batman #2!"

"Is it?" Pietro cooed, smiling evilly. He caressed the cover delicately, "Bet it was hard to come by, huh?"

"Yeah, give it back! This ain't funny! You can wipe slime off your dresser, but I can't get another Batman #2!" Todd leapt from his bed and dove at Pietro who moved at lightning speed, and was now sitting on his dresser. 

"Too slow Todd; I'm going to start thinking you don't want this," he waved the comic, its plastic coating crackling. 

"GIVE IT BACK!" He jumped again crashing into his dresser which Pietro had vacated nanoseconds before. He now stood on Todd's bed, and he was opening the plastic seal! "NO, DON'T OPEN IT!!"

"How else will I read it?"

"NO, YOU'LL RUIN IT!" He flew at the bed, only to feel a gust of wind pass under him. Pietro stood at the door again looking smug, he toyed with the plastic seal to the comic again, "Hmmm...looks like I'll need scissors for this one."

"LAAAAANCE!!! LAAAAAANCE!!" Todd began to wail hopping desperately after Pietro who teased him by moving out of his path, but managing to stay inches in front of him waving his comic. 

"Here Toddie, Toddie, Toddie," he purred.

"What the hell are you doing?" the ground shook beneath their feet, and Pietro stumbled backward nearly toppling down the stairs. He caught the banister, and glared at Lance angrily, "I could have broken my neck!"

"What...are....you...doing? I was trying to take a nap!" He reached to snatch Todd's comic book from Pietro's hands and rolled his eyes as Pietro pulled back. 

"What is that?"

"It's my Batman comic; he took it and won't give it back to me!" Todd whined, inching closer to Lance. Lance glowered at the both of them, causing Todd to stop his approach and take a step back. 

"There's-slime-on-my-dresser," Pietro spat. "I'm-not-giving-anything-back-until-that-slime-is-off-my-dresser!" 

"Todd, go clean it up," Lance waved a dismissive hand down at Todd. Todd choked in indignation, "W...What? He's got my Batman #2!"

"And he'll give it back after you clean up," Lance said flatly. 

"I don't trust him!" Todd folded his arms over his chest.

"Congratulations on your new comic book, Pietro; hope you enjoy it. I'm going back to my room."

"WHAT?"

Pietro smirked nastily, "It'll make nice shelf paper."

"Dammit! Fine!" Todd stormed into Pietro's room. Yech, he hated this place. It was too clean, and orderly. The bed was always made, books arranged alphabetically, clothes folded and put away according to color... It made him itch. He located the slimy dresser. A fine coat of green film covered the light pressed wood, he dipped a finger in it to find it still moist. He needed a towel, he was about to go to the bathroom when he had a better idea. Opening one of Pietro's drawers he extracted a nice long sleeved shirt. He snorted at the label, The Gap... 

The shirt made a very nice towel actually, and within minutes the goo was gone. Why Pietro couldn't clean it up himself was a mystery to Todd. He refolded the shirt, gooey side in, and tucked it back in the drawer. He snickered, I'll hide all my good comics before Pietro finds this. Tomorrow would prove to be very interesting, he thought as he took his comic book back from a scowling Pietro with a smile. 

"What are you smiling about asswipe?"

"Nothin'."

You'll see when you get your surprise tomorrow.  
  


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Ok, that's it for now. Please review. If someone out there likes it, I'll put up another chapter this week :). 

  
  



	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Ok, so I decided to go ahead and post chapter two. Hope you like it! :) Thank you for the reviews! :)  
  
  
  


Chapter 2  
  
  
  


The sun was not his friend. It didn't matter how he turned the blinds, or how thick the curtains, the red giant always found a way to send its rays though his window. He rolled over and slammed his pillow over his head. It was too early to wake up; he'd just gone to sleep. A heavy knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. That was Lance's wake up call. Anyone who didn't respond 5 minutes after the knock got a nice bath...in bed, and while Pietro was fond of breakfast in bed, baths in bed were not on his top 10 list. 

He sat up with a groan surprised at the slight pain in his joints. The boxes he had lifted for Aunt Mae hadn't been that heavy, so that didn't explain his soreness. He massaged the back of his neck and let himself flop back onto his lumpy mattress. He felt a little better lying horizontal with his eyes closed. He heard his door opening. "Pietro?"

"I'm awake, no water..." he muttered, raising a hand to wave at Lance.

"What's wrong?" Pietro opened his eyes and stared at Lance who was now looming over him looking concerned. 

"It's too early."

"You're usually up by this time," Lance said. "You were asleep last night before I got home." 

"I'm still tired," Pietro muttered, rubbing his eyes then spreading his arms out beside him on the bed. He stared up at Lance and gave him a smile, "So you gonna kiss me or let me up big guy?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "You wanna stay home today?"

"Why?" Pietro quickly got out of bed and went about the delicate task of making it. He had perfect hospital corners in less than a second. He sat back down on the bed blinking at Lance as he stared. 

"Look, I know you're Quicksilver and you move at hyper-speed and regular time goes slow for you, so you can do a million things at once and not get tired like the rest of us, but you're still human and you do have limits. You've been looking kind of run down lately, and if you need to take a break..."

"You're gonna let me skip school?" Pietro bounced on the bed. "You'd never let Todd skip school. I knew you liked me more! I bet it's the bath thing. I told Todd he could win more favoritism with people if he didn't smell like old shoes all the time."

"You don't seem so tired anymore," Lance commented wryly, watching Pietro roll off his bed to check himself out in the mirror.

"I never stay tired for long, Lance; tired is boring. But if you want me to skip school and run around town all day, I will. I bet I can find plenty to do." 

"If I let you skip school, I'd like for you to stay here and rest. But since you don't need it, you don't get to skip school."

"You're revoking my Get Out Of School Free card? You got my hopes up for nothing?" Pietro whirled to pout at Lance. "You suck, Alvers. Get out."

"Touchy," Lance raised his hands and backed out of the room. "Uh...spaghetti for breakfast."

"Yummy...." Pietro moaned as his door closed. His stomach hadn't handled the spaghetti well when it had been fresh, so he wasn't even going to chance it today. He'd find his own breakfast. He had a stash of snacks hidden away in his closet for such occasions. He had the new bag of Gems he'd purchased a few days ago in mind when he opened his top drawer for a shirt. He felt like wearing blue that day and had the perfect long-sleeved ringer-tee in mind. Miss Samantha had bought it for him. The old ladies from the shop had kept him outfitted all of last semester; he couldn't wait to see what new things he'd get for this one. They bought for their grandchildren, then they bought for him. Some of them didn't have grandchildren, so he got twice as much. He pulled out the blue shirt shaking it out to unfold it and froze as his hand connected with something soft and squishy. He struggled to control his breathing, as he turned the shirt over so he could see what was slathered all over the front of it. Rage flowed through his veins like hot molten rock.

"TODD I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!"   
  
  


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Todd sat in the backseat of the car looking pleased with himself, as Lance drove with an angry expression on his face, refusing to glance at him in the rearview mirror. Fred sat in the passenger seat humming absently to the country music station Lance had let him choose to listen to on the radio. 

Pietro had opted to run to school at a suggestion from Lance. It seemed he needed an outlet for his anger after discovering Todd's present that morning. Todd had been pretending to take a shower, a process of running the water and singing loudly while he sat on the sink reading comics, when he'd heard Pietro's anguished wail. A second later the door to the bathroom was in splinters, and Todd was being pinned down in the shower he wasn't taking by an angry speed demon. Pietro didn't weight much of anything, and Todd had no problem using his legs to kick Pietro off of him, but his grip was surprisingly strong around his neck and Todd ended up nearly strangling himself. Warm water from the shower head flooded his mouth as he desperately gasped for air. He coughed, choked, and begged, but Pietro seemed intent on killing him, his blue eyes practically midnight with passion. He was ranting in hyper-speech the entire time so fast Todd couldn't decipher a word of it. 

Fred and Lance had burst in just before Todd lost consciousness and had pulled Pietro off. Lance lectured him, of course, about being disgusting and how he was going to have to buy Pietro a new shirt of his choosing...but Todd had been and still was so elated at how deeply he'd gotten under Quickie's skin, he didn't care. He'd buy matching chinos too, as long as he could keep the look of pure outrage on Pietro's face etched into his memory forever.

"Todd, did you finish all of your homework?" Lance asked suddenly, and Todd jumped. 

"Uh...well..." after he'd finished the deed in Pietro's room, he'd spend the rest of the night hiding his comic books. He'd forgotten all about his homework; did he even have his math book? 

Lance sighed deeply, lines of disappointment appearing in his weary face. He said nothing more to Todd for the duration of the trip. 

Getting the last laugh on Pietro suddenly didn't seem as important anymore. He hated letting Lance down, and it was all it seemed he did since the day he'd met the boy. After the jeep was parked, he got out silently pulling his backpack over his shoulders. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything appropriate. Todd watched Fred pat Lance on the shoulder, and Lance give a pale smile before walking away. 

"I screwed up, huh?" Todd asked Fred after Lance had gone.

"We've been getting some notices from the school, Todd. They want to see Mystique. If we don't keep a low profile, they're going to send someone to the house. It's tearing Lance up, and he's doing everything he can to stop that...and you don't seem to want to help him."

"I meant to do the homework, I did! It's just that Quickie..."

"Todd, stop blaming your mistakes on other people."

Todd let his shoulders droop in defeat. Fred was right... as he usually was. Todd was a loser and not trying to do anything about it. "I'll do better, Freddy; I promise."

"We don't want to hear promises. We want to see them," Fred said gravely. "See you at lunch." The giant teenager lumbered away, leaving Todd to himself.

Why couldn't he ever get anything right?  
  


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"You want me to carry that for you Miss Rose; it's kind of heavy," Pietro was watching the elderly lady warily as she struggled with a brown wrapped package. 

"No, I've got it baby," the lady grunted, her curly gray wig tilting along with her body as she pushed open the front door with her foot. Pietro shook his head, then hopped over the sales counter to assist her with the door and follow her out to her car.

"I told you I had it baby," Miss Rose grunted as Pietro opened the back door to her car and helped her place the package in the back seat. 

"I know you had it. I was just...being a gentleman, you know, opening doors and such," Pietro looked heavenward for guidance with his words. He gave a small quirk of a smile as he felt dry lips on his cheek that would no doubt leave imprints of cherry red lipstick on his pale skin. "Careful, Miss Anne is coming, and she'll get jealous if she sees someone else kissing me."

Miss Rose chuckled throatily and ruffled his feathery hair. "Well you better not let her catch you then. That Anne be a mean one." The brown-skinned old woman let Pietro escort her around the car and open her door. "See you next week, baby." 

"Yeah, I'll be here."

He made sure she pulled out of the small private parking lot alright, before going back into the cheerfully lit shop ducking to avoid smacking his head into the hanging green ivy over the door, and on the ledge of most of the front wall. It was a good thing no one who came in the story had allergies, there were so many plants the place could be mistaken as a green house with books. 

"Hey kiddo, got some stuff in back you might wanna look at. I'll do the register for a bit," Aunt Mae was already behind the register, she touched his shoulder affectionately. Pietro grinned at the plump ginger haired woman, "You found those scripts?"

Aunt Mae dimpled, her green eyes twinkling, "Go and see for yourself."

Pietro all but zipped to the back storage room, careful not to reveal his inhuman speed. His Aunts didn't need to know everything about him. He skillfully avoided crashing into the imitation statues of Greek gods and goddesses and jumped over the display of ancient board games from the sixties that no one born after 1970 had heard of that lined the back wall. He didn't knock on the white wooden door to the backroom, simply turned the knob and threw it open. The back room was small, windowless, and cluttered. A claustrophobic's nightmare, but Pietro was fine as long as the door remained open, "Aunt Sal, I'll never understand how you can stay back here with the door closed!" He complained pushing a few large cardboard boxes aside to reach the slender graying blond woman. Her blue eyes twinkled.

"I've lived in apartments smaller than this, Honey. Back in my theater days a place this size was paradise! Come on help me kick some of this junk aside so I can show you what we just got in."

"What-did-we-get?" Pietro asked excitedly, forgetting to slow his words. It was ok though, Aunt Sally was from Brooklyn and used to people talking fast. He shoved a few larger boxes aside and stacked smaller boxes on top of them. 

"The original scripts....or rather copies... for our Audrey Hepburn movie collection."

Pietro's eyes widened and his heart leapt with glee. "You got Sabrina? Can we act it out?"

"Of course," Aunt Sally replied, "who could I get to play a better David than you?"

One of his secret passions was acting. He loved watching old black and white movies and reenacting the characters. Aunt Sally had been an actress in her younger years; she was on Broadway a few times, but always in the chorus. She faired better in the regional theaters and had a decent supporting role in an off-Broadway production once. Acting never brought home the big bucks; lucky she was her somewhat wealthy father's favorite child and had inherited most of his semi-fortune when he'd passed away. Unfortunately, her siblings and most of her family resented her for that fact, and she seldom spoke to any of them. Aunt Mae, Ian (her calico), Pietro, and the bookstore crones were her family. In her opinion, she often said, they were much better than her gold-digging blood relatives anyway. 

"I wanted to be Henry."

"You'll play both," a small space had been cleared for the two of them to sit down cross-legged in. Aunt Sally placed a thick binder down in front in between them. "Here it is. The pages have been laminated."

She opened the binder and scanned the table of contents to find Sabrina, "You know, it would be fun to watch the movie and follow along with the script to see how much they improved."

"We can take it out in the shop, and I'll pull out the TV/VCR combo?" Pietro suggested.

"Hmm..."

"Nah," they both decided, wanting to read through it first themselves and reenact the scenes. 

"Thanks a lot for this Aunt Sal," Pietro said after a few minutes of scanning lines and reading stage direction. His day had started off pretty dismal, but he was always put in a more optimistic mood after spending a few hours in the shop. The strange weariness and soreness of the morning still hadn't quite worn off, but it was bearable now. 

Aunt Sally smiled at him, smoothing a wisp of platinum hair from his forehead, "You're welcome. You've been looking a little...washed out, lately. I figured you needed a fun break. Are things going alright at home?"

Pietro blinked, taken a little off guard. That was the second time someone had asked him that question in the span of two days. "Everything's fine."

He was studied for a moment by intense blue eyes, there was a sigh, "Alright kid, I believe you, but if there's anything me or Mae can do for you don't be scared to ask us."

Pietro nodded, and couldn't help the frown that crept onto his face. He was beginning to feel sluggish again. He'd been reminded of home; dream worlds weren't quite so pretty when one could see home just beyond it and knew the time to go back to it was drawing near. A cool dry palm was placed against his forehead. "I'm fine, Aunt Sal."

"Hmm," the woman hummed suspiciously, and removed her hand. "Well alright then, David, lets get back to our play, shall we?"

"Sure Sabrina."  
  


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Lance rolled his eyes as he spied who was coming down the dairy aisle he was currently stocking. He looked to the unpacked crates of milk realizing there would be no way he could finish before Scott Summers and Jean Gray reached him. Since Asteroid M, he and Summers, and Gray hadn't exactly been enemies. They hadn't had a skirmish with the X-Mem since Mystique disappeared. He even partially owed his life and lives of his team to some of the X-Men when the pseudo-asteroid had self-destructed. He still remembered Evan Daniels carrying Pietro's unconscious form onto the X-jet and slinging him into a chair. Lance couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the speedster until then. 

He did his best to ignore them as they approached. What were they doing in a grocery store anyway? Didn't their teachers do this sort of thing for them? 

"Hey Lance," Jean's pleasant voice called to him, as he concentrated on gallon jugs of whole and 2% milk. His back stiffened a bit, so she definitely knew he had heard her.

"Hi."

"Alvers," Scott greeted.

They never used to give him the time of day, but after Mystique had gone, a pity party seemed to have been arranged in the Brotherhood's honor. Lance didn't like it at all, and he knew it bothered the others as well. He could feel their eyes on him as he continued to work, something they'd never have to do. If any of the X-men got jobs it would be for experience, they'd never actually need them while they were in school, or ever he didn't think. Wolverine and Storm didn't seem to have jobs outside of the Institute. 

"Haven't seen you around much; how have you been?" Lance glanced up at the red-haired girl finally. It was becoming more and more apparent that these people weren't going anywhere until he made small talk with them. 

"Alright," Lance shrugged straightening and wiping his hands on his apron.

"That's good to hear," Jean said, a smile brightening her pretty face. She made a face at Scott, who looked rather nervous.

Lance followed the silent exchange between the two, and frowned suspiciously. These people really didn't do their own grocery shopping...they were there to talk to him.

"Um, look Lance. We know Mystique is still gone, and she was the one kind of supporting you guys. I've, well, we've all noticed you working around here, long hours. You're not trying to support yourself and 3 others, are you? I mean, you don't have any other sources of income in the Brotherhood, do you?"

Lance narrowed his eyes, "Why are you so curious, Summers? Make a point fast; I'm on the clock, and I ain't getting fired for you."

"Professor Xavier is extending an invitation to the Brotherhood for you to come and live at the mansion, maybe join our team. You don't have to be X-Men, if you don't want to be though...but it beats fending for yourselves. That is what you've been doing?"

"Yeah, we have. It's what we know, and what we're all used to. None of us have ever had anyone to take care of us and give us everything like your Professor."

"It doesn't have to be that way anymore. We've got more than enough room."

"We don't need your charity Summers."

"Look Lance, you're not being fair. It's not just you we're talking about. What about Todd, Pietro, and Fred?"

"None of us like hand-outs, Summers," Lance sighed, placing a hand on his stomach and rubbing it soothingly. He would have to remember to grab some Mylanta on his way out that night. 

"Why do you have to see it that way? The Professor does not give out charity! He wants to teach you, as he has all of us. None of us are charity cases."

"No, you're not," Lance said looking Scott up and down, from his shiny shoes to his preppy blue sweater. 

"Oh come off it Lance! You're not the only people in the world who have or have had it hard, and you're being stupid turning down such a generous offer! Do you know how many people would jump at an opportunity like this?"

"And we're just going to ignore the past; pretend like we never tried to hurt each other?" Lance raised an eyebrow.

"No one ever really wanted to hurt anyone. We just had different ideals.."

"Have different ideals," Lance said brusquely. "We're fine Summers; now let me get back to work...unless you wanted one of these jugs here?"

"No," Scott shook his head, "we don't want any milk."

"Please think about it Lance," Jean said softly.

"Yeah, whatever," Lance said off-handedly; he spotted the manager by the apples, pretending he wasn't looking at him. "I'll think about it. See ya."

He went back to shelving the milk, ignoring Scott and Jean who hoovered a minute more before leaving. 

He hated feeling beneath them. 

His stomach burned as he continued to work, and he prayed he wouldn't be ill. It wouldn't be the first time. It worried him that there might be something wrong with him. Not because he feared illness, but if he was sick he couldn't work. If he didn't work, they couldn't pay bills. No bills no lights, no heat, no food...

Would living with Xavier and his saints really be worse than that?

The others would never go for it, he knew. Todd still reeled over his first almost induction into the X-Men when he'd been attacked. Fred still harbored anger over his ordeal with Jean Gray. Pietro... he couldn't think of anything Pietro had against the X-Men really since he and Daniels had come to that understanding after Asteroid M. But then the platinum haired boy was too proud to admit when he needed help and would die of shame before he moved into the X-manor because they were too poor to live on their own. 

Lance shook his head, no living with the X's wasn't an option, which meant he couldn't be sick. He stocked the last of the milk and stretched his back with a groan as his stomach churned. He glanced at his watch; only a few hours before he could go home, skip dinner again, and sleep. 

That had become his existence, and it sucked.   
  


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Fred stared at his roommates over dinner. He'd already eaten his portion of the family sized can of ravioli he'd heated up and was kindly waiting for everyone else to finish before he claimed seconds. 

Todd poked at his food, guiltily gazing up at Lance. He'd had a math quiz over the homework he hadn't done, and he'd failed it. Another note had come home, and he'd given it to Lance as soon as he walked in the door.

Lance was haggard, his face showing lines that didn't belong on teenage faces. He had taken a small portion of the pasta and had eaten only a few bites. He'd glanced at the note Todd had given him sadly and placed it on the kitchen counter to deal with later. 

Pietro was just finishing the meat stuffed pasta shells on his plate and guzzling down his glass of water. Fred doubt he tasted any of it though, not that the meal was any culinary delight. The speedster looked worn and distracted. He ate only to satisfy his super-efficient metabolism; it would bring him pain to skip a meal. 

"Everyone sure is quiet," Fred said aloud. 

Lance looked at him and swallowed hard, "Sorry Freddy." He looked back down at his plate and set his fork down. He stood abruptly suddenly looking very pale, and left the table quickly, hand over his mouth.

Todd bit his lip as the table shook from Lance's departure. "I think he's sick, yo."

"I saw that note. I thought you said you were studying," Pietro shot a glare at Todd. "Lance has got enough to worry about without you screwing up all the time."

Todd pushed his plate away too, "I'm sorry, yo. I said I'm sorry."

"They want a meeting with our guardian, Todd," Pietro spat. "How are we gonna produce Raven Darkholme, when we haven't seen her in months?"

"Look, leave me alone! I messed up big time; I know it!" Todd tugged at his hair. He looked at Pietro pleadingly. 

Pietro let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from the table. "I can tutor you Todd; all you have to do is ask."

"You talk too fast and get too mad at me, when I don't get stuff!"

"The homework gets done though, doesn't it!" Pietro collected his dishes and took them to the sink. "Thanks for dinner, Freddy." He zipped out of the kitchen before Fred could say, "You're welcome."

"I so totally screwed everything up," Todd moaned holding his head. "Fred, how do I fix this?"

Fred blinked, "I don't know Todd, but for what it's worth, I'm not too mad at you. You can't undo what you done, and there's no use in making you feel even worse than you already do."

"Thanks, Fred," Todd said softly, and Fred smiled. He ruffled the boy's messy hair, ignoring the greasy feel of it. 

"I'll clean up in here; why don't you go check on Lance?" Fred shooed Todd from the table. Once the younger mutant left, Fred helped himself to seconds of the ravioli, finishing off all of it. He put both Todd and Lance's plates in the fridge. He wiped down the table and the counter tops, and washed all of the dishes. He thought about mopping, then wondered why he was doing so many chores. He wasn't a complete slob, but he was not normally so orderly. That was Pietro's job. He had a strange obsessive compulsive disorder when it came to cleanliness and frequently threw small temper tantrums at the state of the house and went on mass cleaning sprees. The results were always ruined hours later, but it never stopped him.

He was worried... he was worried about Lance. Lance wasn't eating right. Fred had noticed him skipping meals, or not taking as much food as the others. He was working later and later hours, and at odd hours of the night, Fred heard him being sick. His grades in school were slipping, despite his efforts to study and keep up with his homework. Many times Fred could open the door to his room and find him sleeping at his desk with his head face down in an open book. Pietro thought Lance was going to give himself ulcers; Freddy figured he already had. 

Todd. Todd really hadn't changed much, still immature, still lazy...but lately he was starting to open his eyes and see the repercussions of his actions, or rather lack of actions. He wasn't really worried about Todd. What was happening to him was perhaps a good thing. Maybe Todd was finally growing up. 

Pietro was like a life line to him. He helped around the house and helped Freddy clean up his mistakes before Lance saw them and got upset. He was the one that sat down while Freddy prepared dinner and listened to him ramble about Todd and Lance, and himself. But lately, Pietro had been looking so tired. He only worked a few hours a week; it didn't take him long to complete his homework, or study... so why did he look so wrung out? It was probably mental; Pietro always had so much to think about, at such high speeds. Maybe his dealing with his own fast-paced mind was tiring him out. He was losing weight and going to bed very early, then rising reluctantly in the mornings. It bothered Lance, and it was another thing, next to Todd's poor scholastic record, that he had to worry about. 

Fred sighed; things were less complicated in his life before, when he was a freak show, and he had no family. It was easy to care for only yourself and forget about the world. When you had people to care about, life became hard. But would he give it up to go back to his simpler existence? Never.  
  


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Todd knocked on the bathroom door and stood outside listening the groan of the pipes as the sink ran water. The groaning stopped, and the door opened slowly. Lance peered at him, wiping his mouth, "What?"

"Are you ok, yo? You ran out of the kitchen like you were gonna blow chunks or something. I'm guessing you did."

Lance looked at him in annoyance, "I'm fine Todd. Why don't you start on some homework, ok? I'm gonna go..."

"Lie down?" Todd interrupted. "Yeah, that's all you do. I just wanna tell you, before you go rest, that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to not do my homework, and I'm sorry I got us in this mess." He shuddered a bit, and gazed at Lance imploringly, "What's gonna happen, yo? We can't jut magically produce Mystique. If no one shows up to that thing on Tuesday..."

Lance shrugged, "I'll think of something."

"I should be the one thinking of something... I did it."

"It's too late for you to think of doing anything that may have helped, Todd," Lance said sharply. He began moving toward his room, then had second thoughts. He ventured back toward Todd and Pietro's rooms and opened Pietro's door a crack to peek inside. The lights were off, "It's 8 o'clock..." 

Todd frowned; Pietro had been going to bed very early lately. "Lance," he got his older roommate's attention again, as he closed the door to Pietro's room quietly. "I'm real sorry, yo."

"I know," Lance rolled his eyes. "Now can I go to bed?"

"Yeah...yeah sure. I just wanted to make sure that you..."

"If you say you're 'sorry' one more time, I'll throw up again! I get it! Now show me you mean it by getting out of my face, and doing your homework!" The floors shook a bit, and Pietro was at his door in an instant, glaring at the both of them through bleary eyes.

"Have your lover's quarrel away from my door, PLEASE!" He said acidly. 

Lance was about to reply, when a familiar voice shouted, echoing throughout the house, "Look at what you idiots have done to my house!!"

"Mystique?" They all stared at each other, before racing downstairs to confirm their suspicions. 

Pietro beat them all down, no surprise there, and he rammed into Fred instead of coming to a neat halt as he stared at Mystique and the second presence behind her.

"Hey, who's the chic?" Todd asked hopping down from the last step and checking the tall dark haired girl out. She wore black leather pants and a blood red slinky top, her shoulder length black hair was wild, and her blue eyes blazed. Though there were 4 other people in the room besides her and Mystique, her eyes seemed to settle on one person. Todd followed her gaze to Quickie and wanted to kick the carpet. Why did all the girls always go for Pietro? 

He looked to see if Pietro's flirtatious smile was in place as it always was when pretty girls were in the same vicinity as he was and frowned. Instead of grinning and dishing out clever lines, Pietro's mouth was agape in shock, his blue eyes wide. He choked on his words, uttering small noises then becoming quiet again. Finally, he asked in a high voice full of disbelief and wonder, "Wanda?"

"Pietro," the girl's voice was lethal as poison as she spat his name. Large blue sparks of energy crackled between her fingers, and delicate items around the house began to shatter. Furniture and other heavy objects launched themselves at Pietro, who was too stunned to move. Lance knocked him out of the way of the hurtling couch, as Fred tried to block the rest of the oncoming traffic with the bulk of his body. Todd stood useless, watching on the sidelines. The endless torrent of destruction wasn't letting up, wherever Pietro was dragged more mayhem followed.

"Hey Mystique, do something yo! She's gonna kill him!" 

The front door blew open again as Todd stood stock still in horror, and an older woman came in. She held a hand out in front of her, and spoke words Todd couldn't hear in a soothing voice, and slowly the chaos stopped. 

The girl called Wanda fell to her knees in front of the smiling woman who placed a hand on her shoulder. She asked the girl to stand, and then led her out of the foyer into another room of the house. 

Mystique stood smirking with her hands on her hips, "Well...how do you all like the new edition to our little team?"

Todd moved to his friends, helping Lance pull Pietro off the floor. Pietro's eyes were wide and dilated, and he trembled so violently Lance had to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

"How do we like her...she tried to kill Pietro!" Lance was stammering incredulously. He stared at Mystique, "Where have you been, anyway?"

"Finding this little treasure," Mystique smirked; she dimpled at Pietro. "I thought you'd be pleased, Quicksilver."

Todd glanced up at Pietro's waning complexion; he was already pale to begin with so it was unnerving to see him go even whiter. "How?"

"Wasn't too hard."

"Who is she to you , Pi? An ex-girl friend? I mean she was really trying to take you out," Todd asked, nudging his ribs gently. He flinched a bit as he brushed against the delicate bones of Pietro's rib cage. Pietro had bird bones, and it always made him nervous to grip or hit him too hard. 

"Worse...she's my sister," Pietro uttered, finally shaking free of his daze. He looked at the damage she'd done to the room while trying to maim him. "We're twins."`  
  
  
  


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Author's Note: That's it for chapter 2; I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you think! Take care! 

  
  



	4. Chapter 3

~*~Author's Note: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews. I hope you like this next chapter, and if you don't, don't be afraid to tell me so :) ~*~ 

Chapter 3 

"You never said anything about having a sister, man. Well, I guess you really haven't told us much about yourself period, but I thought you would have told us about having a twin." Lance passed Pietro the glass of water Fred had brought upstairs to his room for him. 

The speedster, though free of his stupor, was still rather shaken at seeing his twin sister and having her try to kill him. The house still shook ever so often with no assistance from Lance. 

"I....I never thought I'd see her again. Why mention her?" Pietro said, sipping the water slowly. He pressed the cool glass against his forehead and sighed. 

"Why did you think that?" Fred asked taking a seat on the floor. He didn't like Pietro's room; it was too clean and he always felt he would mess something up. 

"Because..." He stopped, putting down the glass and then resting his head on his knees, "_Dumnezeu_... It's all his fault." 

"Dum-ne-zeu? Who's that, yo? Evil foster parent?" Todd pressed. Pietro had spoken the name with the same accent he used when he introduced himself for the first time to people. 

"It means 'God,' in Romanian," Pietro explained in a dull voice. 

"You know Romanian?" Fred asked. 

"I was born in Transia, in the Balkan Mountains." 

"Where's that at, yo?" Todd wasn't too good with geography. He could name and point out the 50 states of the US and the boot of Italy, but that was about it. 

"It's a little European country right next to Romania and Transylvania. Wanda and I are part of the Sinte-Romany tribe that populates some of that area. I speak Sinte too." 

"Sinte-Romany?" 

"Gypsies, Lance; Roma, if you want to be politically correct. The last name Maximoff comes from the people who raised Wanda and I for a while." 

"Did you ever know your parents?" Lance asked. 

"Our _mama_ died giving birth to us, our_ tata_, well you know him too now, but we didn't meet him until later." 

"'Tata'...that's gotta mean 'dad' right?" 

"Yeah." 

"I am so smart," Lance patted himself on the back. "So...how does this lead to you and Wanda being separated and to her wanting to blow you up?" 

"The Maximoffs and the rest of our caravan got lynched, only Wanda and me got away. That was the first time my powers manifested; I got me and Wanda away from there, and we wandered on our own for a bit until our real _tata_ found us. He saved us really. Wanda's powers emerged, and as you can see from the show downstairs, things get pretty wild. The people in the village we were in were gonna burn her for being a _vrajitoare_, a witch, and he intervened. Then he brought us here, the Promise Land, the Melting Pot," he kept his head down, but they could visualize him rolling his eyes. "He was never...kind... and it was obvious from the start he was only interested in what we could do for him, especially Wanda. But she couldn't control her powers, and she was dangerous. She was so angry at what happened to _Mama_ and _Tata_ Maximoff, and then in the village, and then at him for being so... harsh, and her powers are motivated by her emotions. Finally he got tired of dealing with her, and one day he put us both in the car and took us for a ride. We thought he was actually gonna take us somewhere fun for a change, but no. He took us to this big white building, and these men in white coats came out and grabbed Wanda. She screamed and cried, and they took her inside the building, and I never saw her again, until today." 

"And what happened to you after that? You and your father must have parted ways for you to end up in New York in foster care and then with us after being recruited by Magneto. You know I always felt a little cheated; Magneto came for you in person while the rest of us got his little messenger, Mystique. Why is that? He seems to trust you more than us. He gave you the cell phone, gives you our orders that override Mystique's, and..." Lance broke off, staring at Pietro and his silvery hair. He touched the boy's back gently, getting him to look up at him. Lance tilted his head to one side as Todd and Fred exchanged confused glances. "Pietro, I know this is gonna be out there, especially if I'm not right, but... Is Magneto your father?" 

Todd choked on his tongue and Fred's eyes widened; they stared at Pietro for his answer. 

Pietro sighed, "Yeah, yeah, old Mags is my sperm donor, and to answer the rest of your question, I wasn't an easy child to deal with, too hyper. I required too much attention. He sent me away. I didn't see him again until a few months ago when he recruited me to join his cause. Sprung me out of jail and everything, made me feel really special, even let me know he'd been keeping an eye on me." 

"The big boss is your old man?" Todd exploded. "Pietro, you're the boss's son! No wonder Mystique never yelled at you, and you never had to go on the stupider missions she sent us on! Hell, your place on Asteroid M was a given!" 

Pietro shuddered as he thought about that incident in his life, "It wasn't a given. If I didn't win my duel, I would have been left behind the same as you. I always have to prove myself to him. He knows I'm smart and that he can trust me, but when it comes to powers, he's always so disappointed in me. Super-speed just isn't good enough for him. If he could have gotten Wanda to obey him, she'd have been there instead of me, but Wanda was too strong. She would fight him and hurt him." 

"So how did he keep her from just knocking him out of the way and doing as she pleased?" Lance frowned. "She should have been able to take him with those powers. What was her weakness?" 

Pietro was quiet as he hugged his knees and lowered his head again. "Me." 

"You? But how? No one can touch you; you're too fast." 

"I couldn't control it like I can now, and I was always so scared of everything. I was too small, too slight, and easy to break. She wouldn't fight him if he threatened me." 

"But he never actually hurt you, right yo? I mean, Magneto just seems too suave for that kinda stuff." 

Pietro shot a glare at Todd, "I learned never to scream and never to cry." 

"Shit," Lance breathed, "and Wanda's pissed at you now, because..." 

"I didn't help her when she was being taken away. I just stood there with him and watched," Pietro sighed. "But what could I do? I don't have flashy powers like hers or yours Lance. I couldn't even make it happen at will yet. Everything didn't start speeding up for me permanently until a few years later, after he ditched me." 

"She can't be mad at you for that," Lance blinked. "That's stupid. You were how old?" 

"Seven almost eight." 

"She'll get over it then, Pi." 

"Who knows what they did to her in that place? Maybe she's crazy, maybe she'll always hate me... I'd hate me. She always protected me, and the one chance I had to do something for her, I just...stood there." 

"The only person anyone should be mad at is Magneto," Fred said evenly. "He took her there. It wasn't your choice; you didn't know about it. So what you didn't fight him. He's bigger than you. If you could do what she did down there, then she'd have cause to be mad at you for doing nothing, but you can't." 

"_Dumnezeu_." 

"Um, so are you gonna start having lapses into Romanian all the time now that your sister's here?" Todd questioned. He couldn't understand Pietro half the time when he spoke English, if he started speaking a foreign language in hyper-speech Todd was going to give up on communicating with him all together. 

"I don't know," Pietro muttered. "Look, I'm tired. I appreciate you guys coming in here and making sure I'm ok and all, but I wanna sleep." 

"Yeah ok.." Fred began, but Lance cut him off. 

"Is there something wrong Pietro? It's only 8:40. You went to bed at 8; last night, it was 9." 

"Why is everyone bothering me about this? I'm fine," Pietro growled. "Out! _Când_! _A se pripi_!" 

"Geez, I think that meant _'andale, arriba_,' yo," Todd chuckled; he glanced at Pietro's vexed expression and decided he was right. 

"What if Wanda comes up here? Maybe one of us should sleep in here with you; at least until we're sure she's calmed down," Lance said. "I'll be back in a minute with my pillow and stuff. I hope you don't snore." 

"What? No! You can't..." 

"You won't even know I'm here. I was going to sleep too, before the surprise party downstairs." 

"Well if you're asleep won't that defeat the purpose of you standing guard?" 

Lance blinked, then caught himself. "If she comes there will be two of us to deal with her, since you seem to freeze in her presence." 

"_Khul_..." 

"That was a cuss word," Todd volunteered. 

"YOU better not snore!" Pietro snapped, punching his pillow and crawling under his blankets. 

Lance, Todd, and Fred quietly left the room, closing the door behind them. "Todd, Fred..." 

"Homework," Todd announced, heading to his room, then stopped. "Lance, the teacher conference thing.... should I give Mystique that note now, or wait til morning." 

The foundation of the house rocked again, and the startled look from Lance let them know it hadn't been him. "No," Lance shook his head. "She's got enough on her mind tonight. She may be a little friendlier in the morning." 

"Hopefully Wanda will be too," Fred commented. "I don't know if I'll feel like blocking floating furniture again in the morning." 

They stared at each other. 

"Homework," Todd announced again disappearing into his room. 

"The Gray Ghost is on," Fred said with a shrug. 

"Night then," Lance said. He slipped into his room to grab his pillow and blanket. The light was off in Pietro's room, but the floor was so clean Lance didn't have to worry about stepping on anything, or knocking anything over. He spread his blanket out and laid down, rolling himself up in it. Placing his pillow under his head, he tried to relax and sleep, but his mind was racing. 

He kept thinking about Mystique's sudden return, Wanda, Pietro's story, Magneto, and...what was going to happen next. Now that Mystique was back, could he cut back on working on so much? 

That would be nice, he sighed contentedly. That would be really nice. For the first time in a month the turbulent sea in his belly calmed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Fred was downstairs scrambling eggs for breakfast when Mystique entered. She didn't speak, and he tried not to stare at her. She looked different, more muscular than she had before. He watched her scrounge about for the means to make coffee. She scowled when she came away with an empty tin of instant coffee. "What have you boys been eating?" 

Fred shrugged, "Food. We stopped keeping coffee in the house after you left." 

"Why?" Mystique went around the kitchen opening and closing cabinets, and peered into the pantry and refrigerator. 

"Speedy became much less annoying after we quit buying the coffee. We never actually saw him drink it, but there was too much of a change in his behavior for us to believe he wasn't when we stopped getting it." 

Mystique narrowed her eyes, "Some things are going to have to change in the way I run this place now. Starting with cleanliness, order, and discipline. Certain people in the past have been getting liberties that have now been revoked." 

Fred frowned dumbly, "What are you..." He remembered the conversation in Pietro's room the night before. Magneto was Pietro's father; the skinny boy looked just like him. Mystique had never lit into Pietro like she had the others. 

"Magneto is my enemy now, OUR enemy." 

Fred frowned, Magneto had never really done anything to him. But...he recalled Pietro's story...he'd hurt his friend. "Alright." 

Mystique was quiet as she studied him. Her lips slowly turned up in a smile, then she snapped, "Your eggs are burning!" 

Fred jumped, almost making the sizzling skillet jump with him. He removed the hot pan from the stove careful to burn himself and placed it in the sink scowling down on the browning eggs. Another scorched meal- alla- Fred, come and get it guys. He wondered when Lance would ban him from the kitchen? He kept ruining perfectly good food. None of it ever went to waste really, because he and Pietro ate everything, but it could have tasted so much better if Fred hadn't defiled it. 

"Next time, I suggest someone else do the cooking. Now I assume you and your friends still go to school, which is why you are up this early. I'm glad that you've been doing _something_ useful since I've been gone." 

"Yeah," Fred grumbled, scooping crunchy eggs out of the skillet and pouring them onto a large plate. 

"The X-Men? Have they approached you at all?" 

Fred shook his head. They never approached him, not after Jean... Lance had said they'd come to the grocery store, and Pietro talked to Evan Daniels on occasion, but that was their business, not Fred's, to disclose. 

"Odd, would have thought that bleeding heart Xavier would have come to you," Mystique murmured. The sound of glass breaking drew her attention away from the conversation. "Sounds like Wanda's awake." 

Some of the eggs fell on the floor, as Fred tried to register where the shattering had come from. Not from upstairs, he breathed in relief. "Is having her here such a good idea?" 

Mystique laughed, "Of course it is, she's our new weapon against the X-Men, and against her father. I assume Quicksilver has told you everything." 

"Yeah." 

"Good, that makes my job even easier." 

Easier than when you weren't here to do it? Fred thought bitterly. He was glad when she left the room. Todd joined him a minute later looking around nervously, "Is she gone?" 

"Yeah. Were you hiding out waiting for her to leave?" 

"Yeah, I smelled breakfast burning so I figured you were almost finished with it, yo, but when I heard her voice in here..." Todd gulped. "I gotta give her that note." 

Fred munched on a fork-ful of overdone eggs thoughtfully, "Glad I'm not you." 

"Thanks." 

"Don't mention it. Are Lance and Pietro up?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Lance was awakened by Pietro rustling about the room, making his bed and getting ready for school. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching, moaning when his back popped several times. He was too old for sleeping on the floor. As soon as he rose from his pallet a gust of wind was whipping about him gathering the sheets, folding them, and putting them away. Pietro sat on the edge of his bed, smirking at Lance a split second later. 

Lance groggily acknowledged him with a nod of his head. He trudged out of the room to brush his teeth and get a quick shower. He hadn't done any of his homework, but he didn't feel guilty about it. He'd finally gotten a decent night's sleep, even if it was on the floor of someone else's bedroom. He brushed his teeth quickly, swallowing the mint flavored froth of toothpaste instead of spitting it out and hopped in the shower to be delighted with the joys of having hot water. 

As he scrubbed, he heard someone enter the bathroom. "Hey, occupied man!" 

"I'm not looking at you Alvers," Pietro sneered. "I'm looking at me." 

"For someone who cares so much about what he looks like, it's abnormal for you not to have a larger mirror in your room," Lance rinsed the suds from his hair. 

"This one's good enough for me," Pietro remarked, coughing lightly and running water into the sink. "Lance, I thought you were going to have a talk with Todd about his hygiene." 

"Slime in the sink?" There had been slime in the sink, and he hadn't noticed it? 

"No... toenail clippings..." 

Now that was just vile. Lance wasn't going to talk to Todd; he was going to KILL Todd. How fuzzy eyed had he been not to notice that? He turned off the water and grabbed the towel he'd slung over the rod. He dried off enough to stop himself from dripping and wrapped the towel around his waist. He exited the bathroom and nearly rammed into Pietro who followed him to his room. 

"Pi..." Lance blinked, watching the younger boy slide into his room before him and go on a cleaning spree. "What are you doing? Why don't you go down and eat..." Oh...Mystique, Wanda... His mind finally woke up and so did his tummy. Who knew what frame of mind Wanda would be in that morning or if she would be waiting for Pietro when he came down. He dressed in his closet with the door closed, light on. When he reemerged his room was unrecognizable; he could see the floor. He had carpet! Pietro was at his desk pondering over his unfinished homework. "I could do this in 5 minutes. Do you want me to?" 

"The teacher would know I didn't do it; it'd be legible." 

"I can write messy," Pietro said balancing a pencil on his index finger, then twirling it. 

Lance shook his head and pulled a pair of combat boots from under his bed, "Knock yourself out, Pi." 

By the time he'd finished with his shoes, found his coat, and got his backpack, Pietro was finishing up his pre-cal homework. He spun in the chair, holding out the spiral to Lance to inspect. Lance glanced over it; the numbers were still too neat, but it was better than explaining to Mrs. Rosdale that his non-existent pet iguana had gobbled his homework up again. (Dogs were so overrated). He tucked the papers into his bag, then headed for the door, leaning on it and gazing at Pietro. He still sat at the desk now doodling on loose-leaf paper. His face was drawn with tension and his color was unhealthy; Lance once again found himself placing his hand on the other teen's forehead. He was a little warmer than usual, but Lance wasn't sure if it was anything to worry about. 

"Lance, stop it! I'm fine," Pietro shoved Lance away; he cracked his knuckles and went back to doodling, tapping his feet at an increasing speed. 

Lance sighed, brushing health concerns aside, "Do you want to try to sneak out?" 

"Can we?" Pietro's blue eyes were large and eager in his thin face. 

Lance smirked, "Come on, we'll go out the window. Todd and Fred are gonna kill us after they find out." 

"Yeah-yeah, lets get donuts on the way. I'm buying! Wait-a-sec-while-I-get-my-stuff," Pietro was gone and back in flash and at the window looking at Lance impatiently. Lance grabbed the keys to his jeep and tucked them into his pocket. They'd have to get gas on the way too, he thought absently as he scrambled out of the window after Pietro. 

The November air was frigid and Lance shivered as he zipped up his coat. "We'll- have-to-push-the-jeep-out-of-the-driveway-so-no-one-will-hear-it-start-up!" 

Pietro seemed excited, "Come-on-come-on, before-someone-comes-out!" 

"I'm not pushing a jeep, Pietro. We'll just peel out," Lance said, after unzipping the door on the plastic cover insulating his jeep. He tossed his book bag into the backseat and climbed into the driver's side. Pietro climbed in beside him with a pout, "You're no fun." 

"Am I ever?" Lance batted his eyes. He started the jeep and backed out of the driveway quickly. "We've gotta get some gas first, but after that we can stop at McDonald's or something." 

"Donuts!" the speedster protested. 

"I'm not dealing with you on donuts this early in the morning!" 

"Fine... McDonald's is cool...long as I get coffee." 

"Orange juice." 

Pietro was silent, and Lance turned up the radio. 

"The house shook this morning, and you were still asleep; so, unless you were dreaming about making mountains..." 

"Wanda?" 

Pietro nodded. "I wonder if that weird old lady that came in and made her stop going crazy is still there." 

Lance blinked, he'd almost forgotten about that, "Hopefully. She sure came in handy." 

The older teen glanced over at his younger companion to see him relaxed against the fabric of the chair with his eyes closed; the heated air from the vents brushed through his bleached locks. "You're gonna have to face her again, Pi, sooner or later. She's gonna calm down, and she's gonna want to talk to you." 

"I hope so," Pietro whispered, startling Lance. "I want to talk to her so bad, but I'm afraid that... What if she really hates me? What if she decides she never wants to talk to me again? Lance, I don't know what I'll do. My foster parents, my father, my sister... I can't take another rejection– I can't!" 

He covered his face with his hands and sat still. Lance nervously looked for a safe place to pull over. He didn't know what he had been expecting from the white-haired boy, but certainly not this. Pietro was not one for crying or revealing true emotions. Todd was the one that cried sometimes; Fred was the one that talked about insecurities. Pietro hadn't even much given them background information on himself until last night. He pulled into the parking lot of a small generic gas station and shifted the jeep into park. 

Pietro was murmuring under his breath in hyper-speak, and Lance let him. He needed to get whatever it was out of his system, and Lance needed to come up with a game plan. All Todd took was a hug and a promise to spend a day with him; all Fred took was ice cream with plenty of chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He had no file on Pietro, other than keep all sources of caffeine and sugar far away from him. "Pietro, I'm gonna pump some gas, stay in the car, ok?" 

He waited to see Pietro's reaction. The boy removed his hands from his face and looked at Lance with dry eyes. "I'll do it. I need to do something." 

"Ok," Lance nodded; whatever he wanted to do. He reclined in the front seat watching his friend go through the motions of pumping gas with a look of extreme concentration on his face. He even watched the boy go in and pay for the gas. Lance had wanted to object, but his wallet was feeling pretty thin these days. 

"We were really riding on fumes, Lance," Pietro said climbing back into the car. "I heard the gas hitting the inside of the gas tank that's how empty it was in there." 

Lance smirked, that was nothing new. He played with his keys and listened to Pietro fidget. "Well, are we going?" 

"Not just yet," Lance said; he turned to his younger friend meeting his eyes, "Do you want to talk for a little bit? You're dealing with a lot of crap right now, and I know it would make _me_ feel a lot better to be able to rant to someone about it. You said something earlier, right before we pulled over. You wanna go back to that?" 

"What did I say earlier?" Pietro frowned, scratching his head and adjusting his seat. "Hey, aren't we supposed to be getting breakfast? We'll be late for school if we don't go get it now." 

"Then we'll be late; it's no big deal compared to this. I don't want you to go to school this upset." 

"I'm not upset." 

Lance rolled his eyes and dropped his keys in his lap, "Tell me more about Wanda, Pietro. I figured you would want to reestablish a relationship with her, but I had no idea it was that important to you. You have this air about you that makes us all want to think nothing gets to you; so – for you to say something like what you did earlier, about being rejected, worries me." 

"Ice cream, a hug, and a date with you ain't gonna fix me," Pietro said flatly. "Todd and Freddy like counseling sessions, not me. If you keep this up, I'm not gonna buy you anything from McDonald's. If I had known you wanted to have a heart to heart, I would have taken my chances with meeting up with Wanda. She never was a morning person..." 

"Wanda's been in a dark place for a long time, she's never gonna be the sister you remember. What if she hates you, and what if she leaves the Brotherhood first chance she gets? How would you take that?" 

"I don't know. I hope I can just take it, like I take everything else," Pietro shrugged. His previous distress had dissipated somewhat. 

Lance remained silent, waiting for Pietro to continue as he knew he would. 

"I never forgot about her you know? I have nightmares about the fires, about the day we were separated. I just never thought I'd see her again. Whenever Father took something away from me, I never saw it again. When I saw her..." he trailed off, bringing a hand to his mouth and bitting the knuckle of his slightly bent index finger, "she looks so different, but then she doesn't. I knew her when I saw her." 

The speedster pulled his knees to his chest and shut his eyes shivering a bit. Lance wanted to smack himself; it was cold and windy, and though the younger teen wore a coat, his low body weight made it almost impossible for him to keep warm for long periods of time. They would have to get going and soon. 

"I wanted to hug her, but then she... her eyes scared me. They looked so much like...like..." he swallowed hard, and pressed his forehead against his knees. 

"Like what?" 

"Father's eyes. They were so dark and hard. He always looked at me like that before he'd hurt me, and then she looked like that, and she tried to hurt me." 

"Pi, I..." 

He was cut off by Pietro quickly snatching his keys from his lap and sticking them into the ignition of the jeep, "I'm freezing my ass off Lance; turn the heat back on." 

"Sorry." The jeep was started, and a blast of hot air struck them both in the face. "Pi, it's rough about your sister and your old man. Your old man treated you like shit, and your sister's mind has been warped. I don't know about old Magneto, but if your sister is half as great as you think she is, she'll get over herself and come to you." 

"Whatever. Hey, do you think maybe I could skip the school thing? I really don't feel like going today." 

"Where would you go instead?" Lance started put the car in drive and moved to the edge of the driveway waiting for a chance to enter traffic. He looked at his counterpart from the corner of his eyes, he had his head down on his knees again, "Hey– are you sure you feel ok? I wouldn't keep bugging you if you didn't look like shit." 

"If I say no, what then?" was the murmured response, and Lance put the jeep in park again. Someone behind them honked; the path onto the main road was momentarily clear. The ground quaked briefly, causing the Lexus behind them to sink into a newly formed pothole. 

"Damn you, Pietro! Why can't you ever just come out and say stuff? Why do I have to drag you across town and promise you treats for you to open your mouth and say 'I'm scared,' or 'I don't feel well?' I've been asking you for days!" 

"Well, before I was just tired; today 'tired' graduated into not feeling well. It's nothing serious; I'm not gonna die; so I don't see why you're so upset about it! This is why I don't tell you anything. I'll be over this by lunch, relax." 

Lance held back a growl. Stupid Pietro... "What do you mean you'll be over it by lunch?" 

Pietro let out a loud sigh, "My body works fast, Lance! By lunch, my white blood cells will have kicked whatever-it-is that's making me feel like shit's ass, and I'll be fine. It's the way it's always been." 

"But you've been looking like hell for days..." 

"I've been rather stressed Lance; you know how it is," Pietro uncurled himself and set his legs back on the floor of the jeep. He pulled his jacket up over his exposed ears and looked off to the side clearly wanting to end the conversation. 

Lance supposed he could accept that answer. Pietro had come clean about his emotions, and his health, and he usually left Todd and Fred alone after that. But somehow, as he gazed at his silent companion, Lance just didn't think it was that easy with Pietro. He got over to the right without putting on his turn signal and got honked at. He flipped the bird and turned the radio back on, as he continued to think. He had no baseline to make assumptions on Pietro's behavior off of, so he was going to have to experiment blindly. 

With Mystique back, he would get to spend more time at home to make his observations. He uttered an inward sigh; every day he sounded more and more like a worrisome parent instead of a 17 year old boy, but for his family he'd take on any undesired role. 

Experiment One, "Where do you want me to take you?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Author's Note: Well, that's it for Chapter 3. Let me know how you thought it was. (Review!) :) Ok, lol, take care! 


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for all of the reviews. Here is the next chapter; I hope you enjoy it! 

* * *

Chapter 4 

Elena Parnova had him bundled up in a large quilt with heavy wool socks on his feet, and he'd had to talk her out of a scarf to go around his neck. He sipped a strong brew of mint tea with a grimace on his face, as his sweet _Matusa _fussed over him lovingly. She adjusted his pillows and just sat and played with his hair or rubbed his back. He didn't feel _that_ horrible, but the attention was nice; it was a good distraction. 

He handed the steaming mug back to Matusa; he couldn't drink anymore,it was too bitter. She placed the mug on the night stand and pressed her wrinkled hands against his cheeks then his forehead, "You have a fever, but it is not bad. If you stay in bed and rest, you will be fine soon. This Darkholme, she could not take care of you?" 

Pietro shook his head, "She's got other things to take care of." 

"A sick child should be at the top of her list of things to take care of," Matusa Elena shook her head. "You lie down and try to take a little nap. I'm going to make you something to eat." 

"_Mamaliga_?" he eased himself down on the bed letting his head rest on a fluffy pillow. He could taste the hot cornmeal porridge his Mama used to make in the mornings and left on the small stove all day next to other meals she would prepare. His little tummy had been so sensitive to spices and heavy sauces in which the usual foods were cooked; the porridge was the only thing his Mama knew wouldn't hurt him. 

Matusa Elena smiled warmly. "Alright then, _iubito_. You sleep; I'll cook. I'm going to leave the door open, so you can call for me if you need me." 

"Thank you," he murmured softly and pulled the quilt up to his chin. The small woman lingered in the doorway for a moment before she left. 

Lance hadn't asked any questions as Pietro had given him directions to Matusa Elena's house. The drive had put him 30 minutes out of his way, but he didn't seem to mind at all. Pietro sat on the passenger side of the jeep feeling chilled, moderately ill, and perplexed. It wasn't like Lance to be so agreeable. He hadn't really raised his voice or shook the ground more than once. 

It was strange to sit in the jeep spilling his inner thoughts to someone besides his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He didn't know if it made him feel better. Having someone else besides himself know how weak he was, was not comforting, but it did make him feel a little closer to Lance. The guy liked to pretend he was their father at times. Pietro already had a father, but he sucked...so Lance filling in from time to time was ok, he guessed. 

Wanda-Wanda-Wanda-Wanda.... his mind kept ranting at him; flashes of her at various stages in their young lives in Transia and when they'd first come to America ran through his mind. She had long hair then; long hair that curled at its ends and he used to tie knots in it to make her angry. Tata would spank him, if he could catch him, for making her cry. 

When they weren't teasing each other, they were usually the best of friends. They stuck together; none of the other children in the caravan, but their cousins, wanted to play with them. Their parents had said that Pietro and Wanda came from a strange place and weren't the Maximoffs natural children. They didn't like their pale skin or Pietro's silver hair. These unnatural children would bring _bibaxt_, bad luck, to them. 

Maybe they were right. Pietro shuddered as images of flames entered his mind. 

_He felt Wanda's tiny, sweaty palm in his. Fear and a strong need to get away fueled his body, and suddenly, everything was moving so slowly. He was grateful for it was giving him a chance to get both himself and his sister away. Mama and Tata were lost; he'd seen them struck down. Mama had screamed for them to run, and through the fire they'd tried to run, but then the dogs had come. _

_He could see those dogs; they were frozen with their mouths open in vicious soundless snarls. Pietro glanced back at Wanda to see that she too seemed to be motionless; her eyes were wide and tears stood still against her dirty cheeks. What was happening, and did he care? The chaos had stopped, and they could get away. Wanda was not unyielding in his grip and he could pull her along without much hassle. She wasn't that much bigger than he was. _

_He ran for a long time, and slowly, slowly the world began to move at its regular pace...and his heart began to pound faster and harder as its pace fell into step with that of the real world. Pietro collapsed, bringing Wanda down on top of him. The little girl shrieked, "Where are we? What happened? Pietro? Pietro!"_

He shifted in the large soft bed, rolling onto one side and curling into a ball. The minor aches in his muscles and limbs were increasing, and the pains in his head and throat were becoming worse. He shivered and regretted not accepting the scarf Matusa Elena had tried to strangle him with. 

"_Vrajitoare_! _Vrajitoare_!"_ Wanda shrank away from the man pointing at her and looking nervously at his broken vending cart that the girl had obviously played some part in destroying. She'd tried to take one of his apples, and when he'd yelled at her, his cart had broken in half, apples rolling everywhere. Her white-haired brother watched fearfully, and the small twins wrapped their arms around each other as the villagers came down upon them. There was no where to run this time. _

_"Kill the witch..." was the chant the mob was singing, as they closed in. _

_Pietro and Wanda held each other tighter, pressing their faces onto each other's shoulders. They didn't want to see their killers. Hot tears wet the left shoulder of Pietro's tattered shirt. They didn't want to be with their Mama and Tata yet. Their sobs grew louder as they felt the heat of fire coming toward them... someone had lit a torch; they were going to be burned alive._

_There were gasps and yelps of surprise, then fear. The heat was removed, and the feeling of being crowded was gone. Pietro dared to raise his face from Wanda's shoulder to see that the crowd was moving back; their own carts had come to attack them and chase them out of the way. A strange man in a red cape hovered in the air before them. He landed on the ground and knelt holding out his hands to them. Pietro stared and shook Wanda to get her to look too. Her teary blue eyes first observed the stunned mob, then she found the man in red. He had blue eyes just like theirs...and he smiled. "Come," he said to them in Sinte and without another second's hesitation, they had. They had let him gather them up in his strong arms and he took them away._

What was Wanda doing now? Could she be resting too, or maybe she was working with that old woman... Would she be ready to talk to him when he got home, or would she try to hurt him again? He didn't want to think about Wanda hurting him, as she would have if Lance and Freddy hadn't of been protecting him. Wanda had tried to hurt him. 

_"Please Father, please; I'm sorry..." Pietro cried, trying to wrench his small arm free of his Father's strong grip. The large man held his arm at an angle above his head, nearly lifting him from the ground. He could feel the delicate bone threatening to snap. _

_"Show me you're sorry! Work harder!" _

_He was thrown to the floor. His Father wanted him to run again, to make the speed come, but he didn't know how. He didn't know how to make it come voluntarily; it came and it went. He didn't dare say he was tired again; that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. He tried to concentrate on running, on moving fast, but his head spun. He was tired and he was hungry. _

_"I see no change in anything," Father was furious as he watched the machines the needles stuck under Pietro's tender skin the long wires were attached to. "Heart and breathing rate still normal; blood pressure is elevated."_

_"He's tired, Father! Leave him alone!" Wanda stood in front of the machines glaring at their Father. The technology began to sizzle and smoke emitting small sparks of electricity at Wanda's displeasure with the situation. _

_"Wanda control yourself!"_

_"Take those things off of him! He's hungry and he's sleepy!"_

_"Wanda..." the warning growl._

_"You're mean!"_

_"If you do not calm down this instant, I will see to it that Pietro eats nothing for the rest of the day!"_

_No! He was so hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat at all. Father had him working from the time he'd shaken him awake during the previous night. _

_"No! You can't!"_

_"Stop it now," Father commanded, and the sizzling and sparks stopped. "You will learn restraint. There will be no more outbursts like this or your brother will pay for them. Now go back upstairs; I will bring Pietro up to join you when I am finished with him!"_

_Wanda fled, but not before looking at him in apology. She would never do anything that could endanger his well being again._

Cool fingers on his forehead roused him from his feverish slumber. He smelled the familiar odor of cornmeal porridge and allowed his eyes to flutter open. Matusa Elena's brows were drawn together in deep concern, "Your fever is rising, _iubito_. How are you feeling?" 

He answered her question with a coughing fit that made him sit up and lean over his knees. It hurt too much to stay lying down. Her gentle hands rubbed and patted his back until he regained control of his breathing functions. "Lousy," he breathed as soon as he could choke out words. 

"You sound lousy," Matusa Elena chuckled. "I will have to get you some cough syrup." She ruffled his hair then lifted a bowl from the small table beside the bed, "I've made your porridge, _copil_; I want you to eat all of it. Then I will give you medicine for your fever. You stay here tonight, yes?" 

Pietro accepted the warm bowl and the large silver spoon. He stirred the thick contents a bit before meeting Matusa Elena's inquiring gaze. "I... I don't know. My friend will be back to get me later, and Ms. Darkholme's really weird about us not being home. She might need us for something." 

"Nonsense, you are a sick boy. That woman has no need of you." 

His adopted Matusa did not know Mystique. 

He took in a spoonful of porridge, relishing its slightly sweet taste; he could almost see his Mama smiling at him. He swallowed, fighting a grimace of pain. His Mama would feed him if he was sick; she'd sit him in her lap and rock him back and forth. 

He was too big for that now... but did he ever want it. He stuffed himself with porridge until the bowl was empty, trying to relive every memory of his mother the familiar food could bring. The porridge was washed down by more hot tea, then he swallowed two tablets of Advil and was tucked back into bed. "When that boy comes, I will tell him you will stay here until you are feeling better, ok?" 

Pietro didn't try to argue with her. He would leave when Lance arrived, and she couldn't stop him, but until then it was nice to be cared for.

* * *

Todd sat sullenly in the backseat of the jeep; he was not anxious to go home. He'd given Mystique the note he'd been sent home with from school, and she'd hit the roof. She screamed at him and called him every detrimental name she could conjure. Todd thought he was used to people calling him names, and that he'd toughened his skin against it... but some insults still managed to leave marks. He didn't like being called stupid, or retarded. He didn't like being told he was practically worthless. 

He'd gone to school with a cloud over his head. He handed in the carefully done and checked over homework with none of the pride he'd felt when he'd first finished it. He just wanted the day to be over with so he could climb into bed with a comic and a flashlight and pull the covers over his head to escape. 

Fred had been very nice to him, walking with him to school after discovering they'd been ditched by Lance and Pietro, slipping him an extra dollar at lunch so he could purchase something sweet and pretty much lacking in nutritional value, and fending the usual bullies off of him between class periods. Lance had made himself scarce and didn't even show up to lunch, and Pietro was no where to be seen. 

Both Fred and Todd were surprised to see Lance still in the parking lot waiting for the both of them. "Figured you were gonna ditch us again. That was really low this morning. We wanted to get away from Mystique too, and I bet you went and got something to eat!" 

Lance rolled his eyes with a slight grin, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was humoring Pi; he wasn't doing too good this morning. If it's any consolation to you, we didn't get breakfast, just gas." 

Fred's annoyance dissipated, and he looked mildly concerned, "Poor guy." 

"Yeah," Lance sighed. He glanced in the backseat at Todd, "What's wrong with you, Frogger?" 

"Nothin'," Todd muttered. He didn't want to talk about it; he wanted to forget it. "Can we just go? I wanna go home." 

"What happened?" Lance frowned. "Did someone pick on you? Do I need to kick someone's ass?" 

Todd slumped lower in the seat and played with the zipper of his jacket. Lance would leave him alone after a while. He knew when it was best to let things go with Todd. He would seek Lance out and talk to him when he was ready. He wasn't one to let things fester. 

Fred elbowed Lance, gave him a meaningful look, and mouthed something that made both of Lance's eyebrow's go up as if saying, "Oh." 

"Hey Todd... how about we stop by McDonald's or somewhere, my treat?" 

Well Todd may have been in a rotten mood, but he wasn't about to turn down free food not burned by Fred...but he couldn't sound too enthusiastic about it or Lance wouldn't spring for a chocolate shake to wash down his Big Mac and large fries. "Whatever, yo. Can we go home after?" 

"Uh...we gotta pick up Pietro first, then we can go home." 

"Pick up Pietro?" Fred asked. "Wouldn't he have just gotten to work by now? Why did he go if he wanted you to pick him up right when he got there?" 

"He didn't go to work today," Lance started the car and put in drive. 

"Why not; he loves that place?" 

"He isn't feeling well; he finally admitted to it this morning. He had me drop him off at this old lady's house. It's someone he knows from the bookstore. She seemed really nice; she hugged him and all and pulled him inside. He didn't say anything about wanting me to come get him...but you know..." Lance shrugged. 

They pulled out into the traffic in front of the high school and hit the main road. 

"He talk any about Wanda?" 

"Yeah, yeah, he did. The kid's really messed up about it. I know she's got some kind of weird psycho power that can take mine any day, but I swear if she tries to hurt him again, I'll find a way to take her down." 

"That bad?" 

"Worse," Lance shook his head. "I've never seen him like that. He was a nervous wreck, and then he's sick on top of it. Mystique sure has great timing." 

"Always did," Fred said dryly. "Hey! You're passing up Mickey D's!" He grabbed the steering wheel and the jeep swerved across four lanes of traffic into the parking lot of McDonald's. Furious car horns honked, brakes shrieked, tires squealed, and Lance and Todd screamed. "Alright Pretty Boy, since you're buying, I want 4 Big Macs, 4 large fries, 2 strawberry shakes, 2 apples pies, and a McFish sandwich...oh and a 6 piece chicken nugget." 

Todd gripped the back of Lance's seat, waiting for his stomach to rejoin him after it'd been left behind in the turning lane they had been in. "Uh..." he stammered, "if you have any money left after all that, can you get me a number 4?" 

Lance was gripping the steering wheel and breathing heavily, "I think you just took 10 years off my life, Freddy! You're lucky if I get you a McSalad!" 

Todd wanted to chuckle at the look on Freddy's face, but Todd had to wonder: would it really hurt the Blob to eat a healthy meal? Slowly Lance rolled through the drive-thru stopping at the large menu board, "Todd, what do you want? Get whatever, and whatever I have left over I'll get you something with Freddy." 

"And what about you, yo? You told us you didn't get breakfast with Pi, and I bet you didn't eat lunch, and you didn't eat dinner last night. Fred doesn't need to eat as much as you do. You're gonna be able to wear Speedy's clothes in a week." 

"I'll never be that bony," Lance muttered with a smirk. "Look Todd, I'll eat something at home. This is for you, buddy. Get what you want." 

Every time he screwed up, Lance was willing to buy him gifts; why? He felt good for a while; no one ever cared about him enough to want to buy him things to make him feel better. But then later he would think about the expense to Lance, all the ice cream, the movies, the happy meals, and he could never give the older boy anything in return. He didn't have a job, because Lance wouldn't let him get one, so he couldn't buy Lance anything nice. He could steal from Pietro for money, but Pietro would hang him by his toes when he found out. The guy was obsessive compulsive and could tell just by looking when something was missing from his room. 

Todd just couldn't feel right for being treated like a prince when he'd done something stupid...again. All he had to do was homework. When he actually sat down and concentrated on the stuff, it wasn't that hard. When he listened to his teacher, things actually made sense. He wasn't dumb– just lazy, and his laziness brought his friends grief. He really shouldn't accept any more treats from Lance. He needed to stop being a baby and insist he be allowed to get a job to pay his friends back. 

"Todd? Your order?" They were at the speaker now, and Lance was looking at him. 

"Uh...." Ah hell, he was hungry. He could be righteous starting tomorrow; right then, he still felt lousy and a chocolate shake would do wonders for his morale. "A number 4 with a small chocolate shake," Todd leaned out on his side to talk into the speaker. 

"Freddy?" Lance asked. 

"No, why don't you get something man? We still got left overs in the fridge. Todd's right; you ain't been eating enough." 

So, Lance ordered a salad, Todd got his number 4, and Fred got a happy meal with what was left over. They drove listening to the country-western radio Fred chose with Todd mocking the singers' twangs. "Yo, after we get Pi, do we gotta go home?" 

"I thought you wanted to go right home, Todd?" 

"Nah..." Todd shook his head, and spread out across the backseat breathing in the fresh cold air blowing in on him. "This is better than blankets and comic books any day. Hey, how 'bout we don't go back... at all? I mean, nobody's happy there. Let Mystique and Pietro's psycho sister have the house; it's going to crap anyway. We can...get an apartment, or something cool like that! Lets get out of this town; make real lives for ourselves!" 

Lance laughed, "And how much do you think all of that's gonna cost, Todd?" 

"I dunno," Todd stared up at the frosty blue sky and shielded his eyes from the bright sun whose rays didn't quite cut through the frigidity of the atmosphere. "If we go to Alaska, we could live out in the woods, build a cabin...wouldn't cost us anything." 

"Alaska? Todd, we'd freeze to death. You know how cold you and Pietro get. What fun would it be listening to you two complain all day?" 

"Alright then... Australia. Find something wrong with that? It's nice and warm, and they got kangaroos!" 

"Hmm... can't argue with that. Sounds great. You buy the tickets, and we'll be at the airport." 

"We'll steal the X-Jet. That way we can pack some stuff up too without having to pay all those storage fees and junk like that. You know how to fly it; don't you Lance?" 

"Oh no, I'm not riding in that flying death trap again!" 

"Aw come on! One bad experience and you're ready to write it off for good? How else we gonna get to Aussie-Land? Come on, don't spoil our master plan Lance!" 

"Yeah, Lance, I wanna meet Crocodile Dundee." 

"Not you too, Fred!" 

"Two against one Lance," Todd cheered sitting up and ruffling Lance's hair. He gazed around at their new surroundings rather than the sky that time. "Hey– just where does this lady live? Are we even in Bayville anymore?" 

The neighborhood they drove through was populated by mostly two story Victorian style houses shadowed by tall trees decked with layers and layers of brightly colored Autumn leaves. Occasionally, they would see a few kids out playing on the sidewalk. The kids would stop their games to stare at the weird entourage as they drove passed. "I feel like I'm in a movie, yo. Pietro knows someone here?" 

"Yup," Lance pulled into a short driveway beside an older house two story house with white wood. "You guys stay here; I'll go get him." 

"Yeah.." Todd leaned into the front seat and shared a look with Freddy, "The two of us would probably scare the shit out of anyone who would live here." 

They watched Lance go to the door, jumping as a stripped cat ran through his legs. They snickered, and waited while he knocked. A petite elderly woman with light brown skin and long dark hair pulled back in a thick braid answered the door. She and Lance talked for a few moments, then Lance disappeared inside. 

"Bet she offered him milk and cookies, yo," Todd whispered to Fred who looked envious. He munched on the Ronald McDonald shaped cookies from his happy meal glumly. 

"He better bring some out to us, if she did." 

"I wonder what it's like in their yo... Wonder if it's full of old furniture and smells like gingerbread? You know, like grandma's houses that you see on TV. I bet she knits sweaters and stuff." 

"Yeah..." Fred sighed. He looked as hungry to look inside as Todd did. There was something about watching old sitcoms or family movies that almost made them both feel mushy and sad. Those programs reminded them of how like other people they weren't, how they'd been cheated in life. The only other home Todd knew besides the crumbling Brotherhood Boarding House was the roach infested apartment he'd lived in with his alcoholic, bipolar mother. He'd never known a father, just plenty of dead beat boyfriends who liked to beat the hell out of him when playing daddy, and grandmothers...hah! As far as he knew his grandmother had disowned his mother after she'd stolen over 500 dollars from her trailer. Todd didn't even know what she looked like and was certain the woman probably didn't even know he existed. 

About 15 minutes went by and there was still no Lance. Todd was starting to get very cold, and Fred had moved to the backseat to put an arm around him. He felt a little better against Freddy's padding. "What's taking so long?" 

Fred frowned, "I don't know... you think something's going on?" 

"What could go on in a house like that? She's probably making Lance stay for dinner or something. He could have come back out and invited us in, yo. A nice- looking lady like that probably wouldn't mind us much." 

"Nah, I bet she wouldn't. Wanna get out and go knock?" 

"If they don't come out in about 5 more minutes, yeah, yo. Lets get our own cookies, man." 

"Wonder if she's got whole milk or that 2% crap." 

"You crazy? Grandma's keep whole milk! They like fat and lard; none of that new school health junk ever lives in their pantries or fridges. You'd never see Sofia on the Golden Girls drinking skim milk." 

"You watch Golden Girls?" 

"Shut up," Todd blushed. He looked back toward the porch, and sighed in relief when he saw Lance coming out with Pietro. The woman wasn't very happy from her facial expression. She kissed Pietro on the forehead, making him lean down a bit so she could reach it, before letting them off the porch. Lance wrapped an arm around Pietro and led him to the jeep. 

"Hey guys, sorry we took so long. Fred, you gonna sit back in back with Todd? I thought you liked the leg room up front?" Lance opened the driver's side door, but stared in the back at Fred and Todd. 

"Todd was cold," Fred said simply. He gazed at Pietro, "Where do you wanna sit, Speedy? I don't mind moving to make room for ya; you don't look too good." 

Fred wasn't lying; Todd didn't think he'd ever seen his fast-moving friend look worse. The large bags beneath his eyes were dark as bruises, and his forehead was peppered with perspiration. His hair hung limp and damp into his pale haggard face. 

"Doesn't matter," Pietro murmured, he climbed into the empty front passenger seat and curled up against the chair. 

"Buckle your seatbelt," Lance patted his shoulder and didn't back out of the driveway until he did. 

They drove back through the neighborhood, and Todd resumed his conversation about their relocation project. "Hey Pi, we're gonna move to Australia so we don't gotta go back to the Boarding House. You game?" 

"Australia?" Pietro gazed into the backseat, "Why there? They have snakes bigger than Fred that eat things bigger than Fred." 

"Geez... there's no pleasing everyone is there? Ok, ok...complain about Tahiti!" 

"Hmm... it actually might not be too crowded around this time of year." 

"Haha! We've got a place; everyone agree on Tahiti?" 

"Do they got McDonald's?" Fred asked. 

"I don't know," Todd shrugged. "But who needs McDonald's there? We'll have lovely women in bikini's and stuff to do our cooking! Hey Rocky, Speedy, that lady have cookies and pie and stuff in there? What took so long, yo?" 

"Um, no, at least if she did, she didn't offer me any. She have cookies and stuff in there, Pi?" 

"Probably, she likes to cook." 

"Speedy's uh...what did you call her?" 

"Matusa...it means Aunt; she's from Romania." 

"Really? Damn, what are the odds? So you and her talk Romanian and stuff together? Does she make weird food?" Todd crawled over Freddy to lean in closer to Pietro. 

"If I ask her to." 

"She wanted him to stay there for the night. You know, it might not be a bad idea...but I don't know how Mystique would take to that. I would hate to bring Ms. Parnova into a dispute with Mystique." Lance paused for a moment, then said in a softer voice, "She really likes you a lot Pietro. She'd probably let you live with her." 

"She wants me to. She's been asking for a while; a lot of the old ladies from the shop tell me how they wouldn't mind me staying with them. They don't think Mystique's a good guardian." 

"What's keeping you with us then? I mean, I know why you can't just go now...Mystique's back...but before, when she was gone...?" 

"I can't leave you guys, and then there's... what if he...." 

"Your Dad's long gone, Pietro. We haven't seen or heard from him since Asteroid M," Fred touched the slight boy's shoulder over the seat. "None of us would have minded at all." 

Todd made no sound. He would have minded. Not only would he feel betrayed and abandoned if Pietro left to live with one of his "shop ladies," but he would feel jealous. 

"Nah..." Pietro settled back against his seat shutting his eyes, "I belong with you guys. We're a club, remember?" 

"Oh yeah..." Fred chuckled, and Todd sighed in relief. He pushed himself through the gap that separated the front and back of the car and rested the top half of his body an the armrest. 

"You'd never leave us, huh? None of us would ever leave. We're a family right?" 

Fred shifted in the backseat, Lance stared straight ahead guiltily, and Pietro kept his eyes closed. "Right?" Why was no one jumping in? He felt a queasy sensation in his stomach. 

"Right, Todd," Lance said, his brown eyes locked onto Todd's golden ones. "We're a family, and we stick together." 

"Even in Tahiti?" 

"Todd, you are such a retard," Pietro breathed. 

"Even in Tahiti, Todd. Unless some fine Native ladies come and take me hostage." 

"We'll make special allowances for that," Todd assured Lance; he grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks man," he whispered. 

"No problem, bro." 

"So um...guys, where are we going? Back to the Boarding House, we stealing an X-Jet, or what?" Fred asked loudly. 

"Well... we need to do some brainstorming to come up with a good enough plan to steal the X-Jet, and it's getting kind of cold for us to stay out in the jeep and figure one out. I also gotta be at work in an hour. I think we'd better get back to the Boarding House. We'll storm some more when I get home, ok?" 

"Sure Lance." 

The jeep went silent as they traveled the familiar path back home, all of them wondering just what would be in store for them when they finally got there.

* * *

Author's Note: So....how was it? You like, you no like? Tell me! Tell me! Well, I hope you liked it. I have the next chapter ready; if you want it, let me know by REVIEWING ;). Take care! 


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Hey, thank you for the reviews. Here is the next chapter; I hope you all like it :)

* * *

Chapter 5 

"Where have you been?" Mystique demanded of them as they filed into the house. She grabbed Todd by the arm hard, "I spoke to the school today about your grades. They want to sent a social worker here you little idiot! I don't have time for this! And Quicksilver, the school called right after I got off the phone with them about Toad to say that you didn't show up for classes today. What happened?"

Todd pulled away from Mystique holding the arm that she had grabbed, and Lance stepped forward for Pietro. "He's sick; I took him to a friend's house."

The shapeshifter glared at the speed demon and stalked toward him testing the back of her hand against his forehead. "If you weren't..." she broke off snarling. "Go upstairs; go to bed; get out of my sight! Now!"

Lance gave the silver-haired boy a little push; Mystique was ready to blow steam from her nostrils. Pietro, bewildered, left the room. "Alright, I would like to talk to you about an upcoming mission for you, a test really"

"Test, test for what?" They hadn't trained since she'd left.

"Lets say I want to stage a small scuffle against the X-Men to raise our group morale- and to see what you're made of. You've never won a battle against them, and now with the new addition to our team, you will. I want them to get a little taste of our new weapon, to rattle them."

"So you got Wanda under control?" Lance asked looking dubious.

"She is working with a good friend of mine Agatha Harkness, and is coming along quite nicely. She is learning how to channel her anger, and direct her attacks."

"Is she over wanting to kill Quicksilver? We can't work with her if she's a danger to someone on the team."

Mystique smirked, "She has a more important agenda on her mind than the demise of Quicksilver I assure you."

"And what's that?"

"Magneto."

"He's history! He's not coming back; why bother with him, yo?" Todd spoke up.

"Revenge Toad," Mystique growled. "As I said before, this mission will be a test. You all will be proving to me that you are ready to take on Magneto if you do well. I want you all to start coming straight here after school; it's time to whip you back into shape."

"I work after school, Mystique. In fact, I have to leave in 30 minutes..."

"So quit," Mystique said flatly. "You work for me and no one else. Call them now and tell them you quit. In one hour, I want you all down here in your battle wear; I want to evaluate how much work I'm going to have to do with you." The shapeshifter turned on a heel and left.

Lance blinked, "I can't just quit. You have to send in two weeks notice."

"You gonna go against Mystique, yo?" Todd raised an eyebrow. "Be my guest, let her be mad at you instead of me for screwing up."

Lance let out a groan, "I'm gonna go down to the store and tell them what's going on."

"You're gonna tell 'em..."

"I'm gonna tell him my foster mom's being a bitch and making me quit, and I have no choice in the matter. I'll be back before she gets pissed again. One of you check on Quickie while I'm out." Lance waved a hand and back he went out the front door.

"I'll go check on Pietro," Fred said lumbering toward the stairs, but Todd jumped after him.

"I ain't staying down here by myself, yo; we'll both go check on Pietro."

Quicksilver's door was closed and the lights were off when they reached it. Fred knocked lightly then opened the door a crack. A small shaft of light fell upon the bed illuminating the large lump stationed in the middle of it. "Pietro, you asleep?"

No answer.

"I'll take that as a 'yeah.' Hey, you don't think Mystique wants him to be downstairs with us when we go wherever it is she wants to take us to train?"

Fred shrugged. "I'm not waking him up. He looks like hell." He shut the door gently. "Come on, we better try to do some homework. We don't know how long Mystique is gonna have us out, and you're just starting to get on track."

Todd let out a suspiration, "Yeah...yeah." Fred and Todd parted ways and each went into his own respective room.

* * *

Wanda Maximoff glared at her reflection in the mirror. She was an ugly, lanky, scraggly-haired witch, and she was going to do what she could to fix that. She'd been out of her prison for two weeks and living under the same roof as her traitorous brother for one week. In that week, she'd earned more control over her powers by learning to focus her anger. The one person she wanted to hurt was her father- the one Mystique called Magneto. Nothing would get in her way... but until then, destroying everything in her wake was not favorable. She didn't want to alert him to her presence early, and a bunch of major disasters all over the news might get his attention, wherever he was.

The Scarlet Witch, Mystique had named her. The name sounded sexy and passionate, and she was neither. She pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the mildewy bathtub. She didn't cringe with distaste at the state of it or the rest of the house. She'd been in worse. She draped two large towels over the shower rod and held a bottle of liquid soap, one of shampoo, and one of a red color rinse in her arms. She put them on the lips of the tub and turned on the water. The water was rusty and thick at first, before running clean and clear. She stepped under the spray and washed her body thoroughly before beginning with her hair. She tossed her head forward, frosting the bottom layers of her thick hair.

She was going to make herself look like someone who could carry the name of Scarlet Witch. She would be beautiful like her Mama Maximoff...

_She watched her Mama as she ran a brush through her long lustrous black curls, she hummed to herself and motioned for Wanda to come to her. Wanda settled herself in her Mama's lap and giggled as the woman unbound her plaits and began to brush her hair. "My Wanda, you will grow to be such a beautiful woman."_

_"Beautiful as you, Mama?"_

_"More beautiful..." her Mama purred. Suddenly, Wanda was pushed aside and forced to share Mama's lap with her twin brother. _

_Pietro seemed to appear out of nowhere, as usual, and he wrapped his arms around Mama, burying his face in her bosom, "What about me? How beautiful am I gonna be?"_

_Wanda glared at him and tried to push him away; this was her time with Mama! _

_Mama laughed and kissed the top of his silvery head, "You'll be as beautiful as your sister."_

_"Yucky!" Pietro announced and crawled out of her lap. "I don't wanna look like a girl!"_

_"Go away, Pietro!" Wanda pouted, "Mama was brushing my hair!"_

_"I can brush your hair!" Pietro announced, running in small circles around the chair, and- to Wanda's horror- Mama let him have the brush. He invaded her lap territory once again, now armed with a brush. "I can make braids!"_

_"Mama!" Wanda wailed._

_"Brush it straight for Wanda, Poppet, just like Mama's."_

_"Ok!" Wanda sat still and let Pietro brush her locks, surprised at how gentle he was. "Your hair's soft like Mama's, Wanda."_

_That made the little girl's eyes twinkle, "Really?"_

_"Yeah, and when you get old like her, your hair will be even longer, and you'll be as pretty...maybe." He tugged her hair then, "But...you'll never be pretty as me!"_

_"Thought you said you didn't wanna look like a girl; only girls are pretty!"_

_"No, boys can be pretty too," Mama said kindly. "We just call it 'handsome,' instead."_

_"I'm done!" Pietro chirped and sat back on Mama's knee, for once not squirming and Wanda rubbed her knee against his. They both giggled and Mama wrapped her arms around the both of them and hugged them, planting warm kisses on their faces._

_"My beautiful babies, I love you so much. I am blessed to have you and to be able to watch you grow and mature into beautiful and handsome adults. You'll both make me so proud."_

The water turned cold and she slowly shut it off, pulling the towels from the rod, one for her body, one for her hair. Would her Mama be proud to see her now, fresh out of a mental institute looking washed out and trashy? How could such a wise woman have been so wrong about how her darling little girl would turn out? Wanda stepped out of the shower and gazed at her pitiful reflection in the mirror, an image of her beautiful mother ghosted along beside her reflection. Leave me alone...

She controlled her emotions as she felt them manifesting to release in a physical manner. She would not break anything right now. She dried herself thoroughly and tied the towel around her body; she had much work to do on herself before she would look like anything. She toweled her hair and looked at the mess of streaks she'd created. She decided she liked the effect of crimson on midnight, but her hair was too shaggy; her ends too ragged. The institution wouldn't let it grow long; they always cut it carelessly to her chin. She combed the dark tangles out and started in with the shears.

As the sea of dark waves fell around her, she tried not to think about her former life. She did not like to think about happier times because they reminded her of what she had lost. She was reminded of the people who'd burned her caravan, the people who'd wanted to burn her and her brother because they thought she was a witch. She recalled Magneto doing experiments on her, poking her and her brother with things; Magneto leaving bruises on her brother's pale skin to make her obey...

A slight crack in the mirror appeared. Magneto always found ways to make her do as he willed, until he finally had her locked away. She'd never forget the cold look in his eyes as she was being carried away and the terrified look in her twin's. What would Magneto do when she wasn't there to protect him? They had never ever been apart! Why wasn't he trying to help her; why wasn't he fighting? Magneto would hurt him...

She lived in her own private hell for years dreaming of all sorts of horrible things she could do to Magneto to repay him for making she and her brother live in fear of him and for separating them and putting her there. She also had nightmares about what horrors may have befallen Pietro out of her presence. What if Magneto had killed him?

When she was freed by Mystique and told not only would she be given an advantage to fight her father with, but she'd be united with her brother her heart had soared. Pietro was alive. He was alive and not being tortured by Magneto. Why hadn't he come for her? Why didn't he try to find her? It enraged her! She'd been worrying about him for years, and he was on the outside, free of their Father, and living it up! He'd forgotten about her- how DARE he forget!!

When she'd entered the house and had seen him... older, maybe leaner than she was, and so...so handsome, his hair as platinum as it has been the day he was born, all she wanted to do was hurt him. Hurt him like he'd hurt her! How dare he be here on a team that used to belong to their Father with friends no less, looking like he'd just been disturbed from a nap! She'd nearly brought down the house expressing her anger, and it infuriated her that the others ones...her brother's friends... kept him just out of her destructive reach.

Since then she'd been training with Agatha and had no time to be bothered by her good for nothing twin brother. He didn't bother to come check on her at all either. Fine.

She didn't care; she didn't need him. He'd forgotten about her and left her to rot. He was... just like Father. He even looked like the man only prettier in an almost feminine way. She plugged in the blow dryer and ran the hot air over her damp hair, tousling it with her fingers. She gazed at the finished product in the mirror, pleased with the cropped tangle of waves on her head; raven on top, scarlet on bottom. Perfect.

She opened the small bag of makeup Mystique had given to her. She'd never learned how to apply it, but she figured it couldn't be too hard. She knew what she wanted to look like after all. She coated her eyelashes in black mascara and painted her lids dark. She spread a fine dusting of pale powder over her forehead, cheeks, and chin, evening out her complexion. Yes... she stared at her appearance, yes... She rimmed her lips with black pencil, then colored them in with blood red lipstick. She gazed at herself again, even more pleased with her new look.

She grabbed the skintight, red jumpsuit and slid into it, pulling it over her slim hips and smiling as it hugged her curves. She didn't know she could fill out an outfit in this way. Wanda studied herself, turning this way and that, pleased with her body, hair, and make up. Would she be considered sexy by a man? She would find those boys, her teammates, and see. She stepped into tall black boots, liking the shapely look they gave to her legs.

She was the Scarlet Witch.

The bathroom door crashed open and a silver blur pushed past her, knocking her into the sink on its way to the toilet. She glared at what could only be her brother for intruding and for knocking her aside. She opened her mouth to scream at him and stopped when he retched. He knelt in front of the toilet, clutching its bowl as he spit up whatever was offending his stomach at the time.

Not taking the ice from her tone when he was done, "What's wrong with you?"

"Flu..." he panted. "S...sorry for barging in." He flushed the toilet, lowered the lid, and rested his head on it.

"Whatever," she grunted. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. This was her Pietro and her heart wanted to go out to him. He was in obvious pain, and he never did deal with pain well.

But she couldn't forget what he had done; he'd abandoned her. She turned to leave. "Like your hair... looks cool."

She froze momentarily, but didn't look back at him. Was he trying to sweet talk her to make her forgive him? She slammed the door closed behind her and stormed to the room that had been designated as hers. The walls were bare, and her closet was sparsely populated. The bed was made with plain beige sheets and a large black comforter. She hadn't picked out anything; Mystique had seen to her room and her clothing. She supposed she owed the shapeshifter a lot. She'd repay her by destroying her Father. It was all Mystique wanted from her.

She laid down on the bed flat on her back. Agatha would not be coming that night, and she had nothing to do. She didn't socialize, and she didn't watch television. She had no books to read...but knowing Pietro he probably did. She wasn't about to ask him though. She didn't want to associate with him, lest she start to care again.

It was probably too late for that though... In fact she had never stopped caring, she couldn't. If she couldn't, how could he? She buried her face in a pillow.

She was going to have to talk to him sooner or later. Later would be preferable, but sooner was more probable.

* * *

"I can't eat that; I just got through throwing up," Pietro whined at the tea and toast Lance was trying to force on him.

"Pi, you know you can't skip out on eating. It's why you're not getting any better. What happened to 'I'll be over it by lunch time?"'

"Shut it up Lance, or I'll throw up on _you_ this time," Pietro moaned leaning back on his pillows. He wanted to roll himself back into his cocoon of blankets and go to sleep.

"You've already done that- twice," Lance said. "Now sit up and try to eat this. Mystique will get pissed if you pass out again at practice."

"How come she writes me notes so I can skip P.E. at school, but she makes me train with you guys in the afternoons?" Pietro forced himself up and stared at the dry toast on television tray evilly. He nibbled on it slowly, fighting his gag reflex. "Wanda's fixed herself up. She looks good, really good."

"She talk to you?" Lance asked, setting a bottle of Tylenol in front of him.

"Other than to growl at me for disturbing her, no, but she hasn't tried to blow me up at all. That has gotta be a plus." He sipped the tea and grimaced. There was no sugar in it.

The week had been hard for him; he'd had to call Aunt Sally and Aunt Mae and tell them his guardian was forbidding him to work. The women had been so sad, and they insisted he still come by, but Mystique monopolized his time outside out school, not that he'd wanted to do much anyway because he felt awful.

He'd gone to school every day that week, only sitting out in gym. Mystique had been kind enough to write him an excuse for the week. She rode him like a work horse in her drill sessions, but she did acknowledge he was sick and didn't require much from him after practices.

He also had to endure the cold shoulder from Wanda. He was glad she wasn't trying to do him in anymore, but being ignored wasn't much better in his book. In the bathroom that day was the first time she'd spoken to him since their initial reunion. She'd looked... much better. He would never get used to seeing his Wanda as the dishrag she had been when she appeared in the landing for the first time. Her new look suited her new personality. She'd chopped her hair off short and severe and dyed the under half of it red to match her temper.

What would Mama and Tata think if they could see them now, not talking and avoiding each other? But he was too nervous to make the first move; he wanted her to do it.

Lance squeezed his shoulder, "Don't move around too much Speedy; I'm gonna get your temp after you finish up here."

"Yeah, fine." Lance left his room, trusting Pietro not to feed his small meal to the waste basket beside his bed.

He got through one piece of toast, before he could eat no more. Lance returned with Todd, Fred, and no thermometer, looking grim.

"Mystique wants to see us. I think she's finally made up her mind on when and how we're gonna move against the X-Men."

Pietro sighed, "Does that mean I gotta put on pants?"

Lance chuckled, Fred made a face, and Todd grunted, "Too much information, yo."

Pietro smirked and threw back his covers, revealing that he did indeed have on pants, though they were loose-fitting, flannel pajama-bottoms. He stood slowly, ignoring quick flash of vertigo and followed his friends out of the room.

Would he be able to get through a mission without doing something embarrassing like fainting or vomiting? He'd find out by trial error it seemed, though judging from practice the odds were not stacked in his favor.

They moved into the living room where Mystique was seated on the couch with Wanda standing at the arm of it, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. Her cold blue eyes skimmed over and avoided Pietro's. He felt his shoulders slump and he kept close to Lance.

"It's time; I feel we are ready. An anonymous tip will be given to the X-Men that the Brotherhood will be causing trouble at the local mall this Thursday...tomorrow. You are not to actually engage in open battle with any of them. Our demonstration tomorrow is a debutante ball, almost, for Wanda. We want the X-Men to see her and some of what she can do. It would also be nice to win one, for a change. Now, I know tempers will flare, and it will be hard not to destroy property, but I'd like to keep it to a minimum. Use your new training to evade them and herd them toward the main escalator where Wanda will make her entrance."

"Hey, that's kind of cool, yo," Todd said, nodding appreciatively. He winked at Wanda slyly, and she snorted in disgust. Pietro tossed Todd a confused look. Was he hitting on his sister? Since when did Todd like Wanda?

"Practice today will be brief. Quicksilver, I don't want any blackouts this afternoon. Did you eat a sufficient meal?" Mystique's golden eyes zeroed in on him. Pietro gulped at their intensity.

How could he explain to her the recent stomach problems he'd developed. He didn't have a stomach virus, but his appetite had diminished and when he tried to make himself eat, he became ill. He and Lance had discovered that the hard way.

"Mystique, I don't think Pietro should be included in any of the upcoming plans. He's only getting worse, and he'll be more of a liability than a help. The Scarlet Witch's gonna wipe the floor with the X-Men; we don't need Quicksilver," Lance stated, laying a hand on Pietro's wiry shoulder.

Mystique's eyes blazed angrily, "Are you trying to give me orders, Avalanche?"

"No Mystique, I'm not. I'm just saying..."

"Each one of you plays a part on this team. Avalanche, you are the stupid leader they follow blindly, Blob is the muscle, The Scarlet Witch is the talent, Toad is the... an extra pair of hands, and Quicksilver is your brain! Do you go places without your brain? Though others would like to say otherwise, the truth is no. I am not accompanying you on this little mission, and someone needs to be around to be the common sense."

Todd snorted, "Pietro has common sense?"

Pietro was rather surprised to hear it himself. Mystique thought he was smart? And all this time he thought he was being kept around because of who he was.

"More than the rest of you, yes," Mystique scoffed. She looked at Pietro carefully, sizing him up, "You wouldn't let your team go off without you on the first mission you could possibly win. If it goes awry and you were not there, we'll all know who's fault it was."

Why was it always his fault went things went sour? He winced outwardly and opened his mouth to say something, but Lance beat him to it, "Stop trying to make him feel guilty Mystique. He doesn't feel well and shouldn't have to go anywhere. We'll do fine without him. It's not like we're actually doing anything all that hard anyway. We're provoking the X-Men into a fight, luring them into the trap, and then the rest is all on Wanda. We've all seen what she can do, and I doubt there will be any problems."

"Avalanche, you are trying my patience..."

"Why is it so important he go Mystique? You've got an ulterior motive, I know it. You don't give a damn about him being smart; there's something else!"

"Do not question me!"

"I can question whatever I like of you, when it has to do with the welfare of..." The house was beginning to shake, and Pietro, Todd, and Fred began looking for cover. Pietro was touched; Lance was standing up for him, but he wasn't trying to be flattened in the process. Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?

"Lance stop it! I can go; it's no problem. It'll only take, what, 30 minutes? I go to school for the full 8 hours; I think I can handle a half hour."

The glare Lance gave him made him want to hide under his bed. He hid behind Freddy, which was just as good if not better.

"It's settled then," Mystique said simply, daring Lance to speak against her again. Lance growled, "Fine."

"Practice in 15 minutes," Mystique ordered. She didn't move to leave the room and neither did Wanda. Lance gripped Pietro's elbow roughly and marched him up the stairs, followed by Todd and Fred.

The minute he got back to his room he made for his bed. His head was pounding, and it felt good to bury it in the softness of his pillow. He ignored the sounds of his friends moving around him.

"...dumb kid," he heard vaguely.

* * *

Lance sat up with Pietro that night. The silver-haired boy couldn't sleep; he kept having nightmares about fire. He wouldn't go into detail about them, but Lance had a feeling they might have been flashbacks.

Lance let Pietro quiz him for his chemistry test coming up. It gave Speedy something to do, and Lance got some much needed studying that he wouldn't have done on his own, finished. "Come on Lance, some of this stuff isn't hard. You should read more," Pietro scolded after Lance missed another question on chemical change.

He really should...he had no excuse not to anymore. He had quit his job, and felt better than he had in weeks. His employer, or rather ex-employer, had been sad to see him go. He even offered to promote him, finally. He claimed he was getting around to it anyway, but Lance doubted that.

The chemistry book on Pietro's lap was closed, and he felt blue eyes on him, "You're not even paying attention, are you?"

"Not anymore really," Lance admitted. He sighed and made Pietro scoot over on the bed. He'd been sitting in a desk chair beside for the past few hours and his butt was going numb. He plopped down beside the skinny boy. "You ever think about what's going to happen to us later? Like in the future? I mean, I'm graduating this year and while college might not be the first place I look into, I am going to have to get a job. I don't want to work in a grocery store all of my life, and those are the only places around here that hire people like me. There's not gonna be a place for me in Bayville anymore."

"Your place is with us," Pietro said simply.

Lance smiled; sometimes Pietro could be as elementary as Todd when it came to certain things, like the future for instance. "Mystique isn't sticking around here forever, Pi. When she leaves again, we'll have to fend for ourselves. Laying low is a good excuse for now because we're underage, but when we've all grown up.... Pietro, you're college material. I expect you to go away to school and get 10 degrees and make so much money you'll have to hire someone else to count it all. Fred and Todd, I'm not so sure about. I worry about them, and I worry about me."

He always got so depressed late at night, but he was usually in his room alone in the dark telling the ceiling about his fears and problems.

"Well, if I'm going to be that rich, you think I'd forget about you guys?"

"In a heart beat, if there's women involved- and knowing you, there will be."

Pietro snickered, "That could pose a problem for you, yeah. But honestly Lance, you've got a chance at college too. You're smart; all you gotta do is study a little bit."

"Where would I get the money to go?"

"Where would I get it?"

"You'd get 10 scholarships," Lance laughed. "You make straight A's, you played on a high school basketball team, you work at a nice little shop full of old ladies who can write you killer recommendations, all of your hours spent helping all of your elderly friends constitutes as community service, and you're a poor, foster child...oh yeah, you're getting scholarship money and a grant to any college of your choice."

"Geez, you're getting _me_ excited," Pietro rolled his eyes. He began coughing roughly, doubling over his lap with both hands over his mouth. Lance rubbed his back in soothing circles until the fit was over, disturbed at how hard his friend was coughing.

"I hope you don't need antibiotics," Lance said, warily resting a cool hand on Pietro's hot brow. He didn't think antibiotics were sold over the counter, and a doctor didn't just write prescriptions. Would Mystique pay for Pietro to see a doctor? He didn't think so- not unless it was a dire emergency.

Pietro was still trying to catch his breath. He looked pained when he drew in air. "This sucks," and it was worse after running, which was why Lance didn't want him with them on their mall escapade.

"Why did you stop my argument with Mystique? You don't need to be there."

Lance had been extremely annoyed when his perfectly sound argument had been interrupted by the one he was trying to protect with it.

"You were going to shake down the house. Todd, Fred, and I were scared for our lives. Mystique wasn't backing down, and you were going to bring down the walls on our heads. I had to say something, besides... you are right. I'm not going to be of much use, which means I won't be doing anything. I'll just watch Wanda do her stuff and..."

"So that's it," Lance almost laughed at himself. Why hadn't he figured it out? Pietro wanted to watch his sister. "She can take care of herself, Pi."

"You think I don't know that. I just wanna make sure it goes well, you know. You can't tell it from her face or anything, but she's ready to show off. I don't want her to be...disappointed. Those X-Freaks have surprised us with so many different things. If I can think of some of the things they may do first, Wanda can get a clean victory. That may...lighten her up some."

"Pietro, she's not going to throw her arms around you and forgive you, because she creams the X-Geeks. Like it or not, and I know you don't like it, Wanda's issues with you are going to take time for her to get over. Fred, Todd, and I will be here to keep you from going insane while you _wait_, _Quicksilver._"

Pietro pouted and Lance grinned.

"Ok, I think I'm ready to look at more chemistry, unless you wanna try to sleep again. We do have to go to class in the morning."

"Sleep, I think." The speed demon bit his lip, then asked hesitantly, "W...will you stay? Just in case, you know?"

Lance looked into his friend's pale sweaty face and brushed a lock of damp hair off his forehead, feeling something close to paternal. "Yeah, yeah, I'll stay. Come on, lets get you comfortable."

Pietro laid on his side with his back to Lance, blankets pulled over his ears. He got chills periodically and Lance wanted him to stay bundled up. How the boy made it through school daily would always be a mystery to Lance. He'd almost lost it and brought the boy home a few times during lunch periods. He didn't like seeing good friends picking at meals with no appetite, trembling with cold though they wore two sweatshirts and a coat, and fighting to keep their eyes open because of the overdose of cold medicine they had to take to compensate for fast metabolisms.

He rubbed the thin boy's back until he heard his breathing deepen and even out. He carefully reached to retrieve his chemistry book without shifting around too much on the bed, lest he disturb Pietro, and went back to studying. He didn't feel very tired himself. He was a little nervous about the upcoming skirmish. It seemed a little silly, the whole scuffle would have no real point. Why couldn't Mystique find something important for them to do and introduce Wanda then?

Maybe it was because she wanted to see how Wanda would act in a battle situation. It was true that you didn't send green recruits into battle, especially when the X-Men might show up. They did have to make sure she could think on her feet and could control herself when the time came.

He hated not knowing Wanda better. He was the unofficial leader of their misfit band, and he knew all of his soldiers on a personal level. He had to know them, so he would know how best to protect them, and how well they'd watch his ass. Wanda wasn't about to let him get close to her though, she wouldn't even let her own twin brother in for crying out loud. He disapproved of her being on his team, but he'd held his tongue with Mystique after that first day. She'd, after all, told him he could quit his hellish job; he had to show his gratitude in some way. He watched and evaluated the girl from what she did in practice to learn her trademark moves and was still trying to figure out how to incorporate them into what he had in his mental files on the others. He was trying to rewrite game plans to include Wanda. He'd probably end up working with Pietro to figure out the best possible group scenarios. Mystique hadn't lied about Quicksilver being smart. He was a good strategist, better than Lance really, but he just couldn't get people to work for and with him like Lance could.

The old familiar pain in his gut burned a bit, and he laid the book face down on his chest closing his eyes. Leader, dependants... College, no college...graduation, leaving Bayville... Todd, Fred, Pietro, now Wanda...

How could he ever get any studying done with all of that swirling around in his head? He slowly and carefully crawled under one of the extra quilts piled onto Pietro's bed. The boy was buried under a sheet, a comforter, and two quilts, still shivering slightly. Lance turned his back to Pietro's and turned off the small lamp beside the bed. Then he pillowed his arms under his head and shut his eyes.

A little sleep would take his mind off of everything that troubled him.

That is, unless he had nightmares.

Pietro had gotten it backward; he wasn't the one being comforted by Lance's presence in the room to shield him from unwanted mental pictures. Lance felt Pietro's warm back wrapped in blankets against his, breathing rhythmically and soothing Lance into a light slumber...

It was Lance who was.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok, so how was that? Let me know! Please review! 


	7. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Hello! So sorry I took so long to post this thing. I was trying to finish a chapter to another story so that I could post my updates all at once, but yeah... the other chapter ended up taking longer to finish than I thought, and I apologize again. Thank you for all of the kind reviews, and I'm going to give some shout outs.  
  
Melanie: Thank you so much. I think you're the first person to mention the prologue and how it fits into the story. All I can say is: You'll see. Thank you for the review; hope to hear from you again!  
  
Stormy 1x2: Finding good Brotherhood stories is hard. I'm always on the lookout for them, and that is what inspired me to try to write one. I'm glad you consider my story one of the good ones. The confrontation with the X-Men happens in the next chapter, and if you want it, let me know, because I already have it and the chapter after written lol ;). This time I won't be waiting to finish another chapter of something else before I post, so expect something next week ;).  
  
DemonRogue13: Thank you so much for the compliment. I'm glad you like it, and here's more!  
  
Girlonthem00n: Thank you for reviewing practically EVERY chapter. Love ya chica!  
  
Gilgiladish: Thanks! I hope this next chapter is a little better than the last for ya, though it's a little slow.  
  
LostAngel2: Glad you "love" it lol. Lance and Pietro will be even cuter later on lol. Thanks for your review!  
  
Dru: I'm happy you like Lance being the main care-taker of the group, since it's such a used idea, but it just fits somehow. I enjoy reading those type of stories, so I kinda wanted to do one too :). I know you reviewed a few chapter ago, but I thought I should type you a message too ;) Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Namida: Hola chic! I love ya no matter what story you're reviewing for, lol! I'm glad you checked this one out too! Thanks for the review!  
  
Bunches: Eh...you just reviewed so that I would sent you a chapter in advance; I know how you work, sneaky chic. Well this time, you'll have to read the chapter at the same time as everyone else ;). Thanks girl!  
  
Summing Up The Stars: I updated, lol! ;) Thanks for the coaxing!

* * *

Chapter 6  
  
It was easy to trick the X-Men. All they had to do was stage a few whispered conversations with one another about them planning on breaking into the mall after hours and stealing money and merchandise that night. They whispered to each other in the cafeteria, in between classes, at gym, after school, all in all the X-Men looked pretty tense by the end of the day.  
Todd laughed at how gullible they were. "Wanda's gonna chew em' up and spit em' out." He leaned against the empty jeep. He and Pietro were waiting for Lance and Freddy to arrive. The two older boys were probably off doing more whispering. But Todd felt they had gotten the idea across well enough. If they dropped too many hints, the X's would get suspicious.  
  
He elbowed Pietro gently in the side. "Hey Speedy, got my homework quiz back today. Got an 84! Not such a retard anymore, am I?"  
"You never were," Pietro snorted. He sat down in the backseat of the jeep turned towards Todd so his legs were resting on the side of the vehicle. "I wish they'd hurry up; I'm cold."  
"You're always cold, yo," Todd smirked. He moved to sit on the edge of the jeep just below Pietro's sneakers. "So...you really coming tonight?"  
"Yeah, I'll be there. Someone's gotta be the smart one," Pietro said smugly, looking superiorly down at Todd. He coughed violently, holding his chest with one hand and covering his mouth with the fist of the other.  
Todd grimaced; his friend wasn't getting any better at all and shouldn't have to be involved in any kind of fighting. Quickie probably shouldn't have been going to school either, but Todd wasn't about to tell Mystique that. She was being particularly evil to him as of late, even after he'd started bringing her notes of his improvement in his academic endeavors. He hadn't skipped one class or even received one tardy since she'd come back.  
"You all right?" Todd asked, squeezing Pietro's bony knee in one hand lightly. He tilted his head back to see Pietro pulling his backpack onto his lap and fishing around in it for something. He pulled out a frosty sports bottle and took a hearty swig, before answering Todd in a rough voice.  
"Yeah, peachy." Another fit of deep coughs. "Shit, I'm dying!"  
"You're noisy for a dead guy, man." Todd rested his head against his friend's leg, the dark denim fabric rubbed against his face. "Hey, lets hot-wire the jeep and turn some heat on."  
"And risk death-by-Lance? I think not." Pietro sipped greedily at the blue beverage.  
Todd wanted to taste some of Pietro's drink, but he knew Speedy had odd reservations about not sharing drinks or food with anyone named Todd– and– Speedy was germy. He had plenty of slime of his own; he didn't need any of his teammate's.  
"Hey...uh Pietro? Can I talk to you for a minute?" Evan Daniels rolled up on his skateboard. It was like an extra appendage or something, because Todd never saw him without the thing. The African American boy with the golden flat top looked at Todd in vexation. "Alone?"  
"You wanna get lost Toddie?" Pietro drawled.  
"Not really, no." Todd stayed where he was at Pietro's knee.  
"Todd doesn't wanna get up and neither do I. What do you gotta say to me, Daniels? Todd won't tell."  
Evan scowled and tucked his skateboard under his arm. He didn't say anything for a while as he gazed at Todd then at Pietro, his scowl transforming into a slight frown.  
"What is this stuff I've been hearing about the mall, man? I thought you guys had given up that bad guy stuff."  
"What mall?" Pietro asked dimly; he looked uninterestedly at Evan and took another swig of his juice.  
"Don't play dumb... Kurt overheard Toad..."  
"Todd."  
"Whatever... he overheard Todd and Dukes talking about it. Don't do anything stupid, man. Look, I thought after... the Asteroid thing... you and me were gonna start trying to be friends again. You can't go back to being the enemy now."  
"When did I ever stop being the enemy?" Pietro wanted to know.  
Evan's mouth flopped open in an unflattering manner. "I thought... when you thanked me for helping you out and then we've been greeting each other and not glaring... I really want us to be friends again, Pietro. My mom and dad ask about you all the time, you know?"  
"No, I didn't know." Pietro was tiring; Todd could hear it in his voice. "I'm sorry Evan, but some things just aren't meant to be and things happen to let us know that. We can't be friends. There's just too much in the way of that now."  
"There doesn't have to be! I was a stupid ass, and I pushed away the best friend I ever had! Let me fix that. I want you back."  
This was starting to sound like a soap opera; Todd rolled his eyes, but then began to wonder. Just how close had Evan Daniels and Pietro been? He knew they had known each other, but it was only rivalry stuff that he'd heard about. He vaguely remembered Pietro mentioning something about them being friends once, but that had been a long time ago.  
"Daniels, you're giving me a headache!" Pietro complained, trying to wave the other boy off. "Give it up; go away before Lance and Freddy get here. They'll think you're bothering us and beat you up."  
"Max, please, whatever you guys are planning...don't go. So what if they..." he glared at Todd, "throw you out if you don't. You can come stay with us."  
"And be an X-Man? Don't think so Danny," Pietro sang merrily. "Well, you've tried your X-Men recruiting spiel out on me and it failed, so... See ya tomorrow?"  
Todd snickered at the way Pietro was handling the situation aloud, but worried on the inside as he caught something in Pietro's eyes, a strange longing. He glimpsed Evan's face to see the same look in his. What the hell?--all that soap talk was serious and starting to get to Speedy! Todd had to do something. "There's Lance and Fred!"  
Evan shot one last pleading look at Pietro, before hopping back onto his skateboard and rolling off again. Pietro shot an amused look down at Todd through his lashes. "Was he getting on your nerves too?"  
Todd feigned a laugh. "Yeah. I mean, you told him to get lost how many times?" He squeezed the speed demon's knee again, not easing his grip at Pietro's soft gasp of pain. The little bones making up Pietro's joint felt so fragile Todd bet he could shatter them if he applied more pressure, but he didn't.  
"Pi, you'd never joint the X's right?" Pietro was skilled and smart; everyone who had those qualities usually joined the Other Side. He dressed like one of them, and he talked like one of them. He was even popular in his own rite, especially when it came to girls. Why shouldn't he join the X's, if they invited him? Unlike Todd, he'd never been extended an invitation to turn down yet.  
Todd still bitterly remembered his experience with X-Men when they'd wanted to recruit him. They'd practically tried to kill him. He doubted they treated their other would-be recruits like that, or else they'd be lacking quite a few members.  
"I could never join the X's. They're too goody-goody. And besides, I told you who my father is; they'd never accept me." Pietro finished off the last of his drink and looked disheartened that there was no more.  
"They accepted Kurt and he's Mystique's kid," Todd pointed out.  
"Mystique never had a hand in raising him. He never knew until just recently; they can't hold that against him. Now me-- Mags may not have been the best, but he was there for a few years of my life, and after that, I worked for him. They wouldn't be able to trust me. " Pietro smiled humorlessly. "The Trials and Tribulations of a Super Villain's Son.... Hey, catchy title. I should write a book and use the pen name Quicksilver. People would buy it in baker's dozens. I'll even do book signings. Hey Todd– you-guys-could-travel-with-me! We-can-party-all-over-the-country! Imagine-all-the-interesting-women-we'll-meet! We-can-even-go-to-Tahiti! Do-they-speak-English-in-Tahiti? I-don't-know-if-they-do-and-the-only-other- languages-I-know-are-Romanes-Romanian-and-French. Oh-well,-doesn't-take-me- long-to-learn-a-new-language,-I-just-need-to-do-some-research. I'll-call- and-ask-Aunt-Mae-or-better-yet-Aunt-Sally. She-knows-just-about- everything! I-am-getting-so-excited. I-need-to..."  
"YO!" Todd grabbed Pietro's empty sports bottle and smacked him over the head with it, "Slow down! I only got the part about you writing a book with a looney title and I think...Tahiti? You did say something about Tahiti, right?"  
"Yeah," Pietro beamed. "Wait 'til I tell Lance."  
"I hope you don't tell it to him like that," Todd grumbled.  
"I can tell him in Romanian; think he'd like that better?" Pietro flicked one of Todd's ears.  
"It would sound cooler," Todd said, actually thinking it over. He winced and took his head off Pietro's leg as the speedster's body was wracked with another violent coughing paroxysm. When he was done, he pouted at his empty sports bottle and looked down at Todd pitifully, extending the bottle toward him.  
"Could you get me some water?"  
"Yeah, sure," Todd took the bottle.  
"Try not to get any slime in it, okay?"  
"Whatever Speedy."

* * *

Fred had stayed after in his Physical Science class to finish his test. It always took him longer than the other students to complete everything it seemed. He hated feeling slow. When he was younger one of his teachers had suggested he had a learning disability and should be tested. He was in foster care by then, and none of his foster parents wanted to be bothered with getting a child special tests, heaven forbid something really be wrong. No one wanted a stupid child in their home.  
He was on the last problem, and he gazed up to see his teacher still sitting at her desk grading the other tests that had been turned in. She never acted bothered when Fred lingered 15 minutes after the rest of the students had left.  
Mrs. Frank was a nice lady, a little old, a little plain, and a little dumpy, but nice. She taught at a pace all of her students could follow and loved to be asked questions. She often asked Fred how he was doing at home and graded his homework leniently. He sometimes came in before class started to let her look over his homework for her class and others.  
He penciled in the last of equation he needed and calculated the answer carefully. He lumbered to the large desk and set his test paper down gently. Mrs. Frank smiled up at him, her green eyes kind. "Was the test ok, Freddy?"  
"Yes ma'am, it was just fine. I think I did ok."  
She glanced at it briefly and her smile widened. "I think you did great. I'll have your grade for you tomorrow afternoon, if you want to come by."  
Fred nodded eagerly, "Yeah, um...thanks."  
"No problem." She gazed passed him to the door. "I think someone's waiting for you."  
Fred turned to see Lance leaning in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips.  
"Yeah...uh, see you Mrs. Frank!" Fred waved at the teacher and went toward Lance, following the brunette out.  
"How did you do on your test?" Lance asked right away.  
"How did you know I had a test?" Fred was puzzled. Lance spent the majority of his time making sure Todd studied and mothering Pietro. When had he looked in on Fred?  
"You said something about it the other day," Lance shrugged. He peered at Fred, looking a faintly hurt. "I do listen to you, Freddy. I thought you knew that."  
Fred stammered; he hadn't meant for Lance's feelings to be hurt. He just didn't think he was important enough for people to bother themselves with worrying about. "You've been so busy, and it wasn't like I've been calling you in for help. I wouldn't have noticed..."  
Lance raised an eyebrow. "You notice everything, Fred."  
He did, but he chose not to verbally agree with Lance. "You think this mall thing is really a good idea? I mean, yeah we'll beat the X's for once...but it just seems kind of pointless. A waste of energy, you know? I have homework, Todd's got a test, Pietro's sick, and you need to study. We just don't have time for this, for Mystique. We were actually starting to be...I don't know, people, a real family. I mean, we had our problems, especially with money... but.... I guess what I'm trying to say is: Is having Mystique back really better? She's still just using us; she doesn't care at all. She'll leave again when she thinks she's gotten all she can out of us, and I hope she takes Wanda with her. She breaks more things than you and me put together, and she makes Speedy miserable."  
Lance sighed heavily. "I know she's using us Fred...but...maybe she won't leave again. It's nice not having to worry about money for a change."  
Fred shrugged. Lance had been looking much better since he stopped working. "You think the X's caught the bait?" he asked.  
"Yeah, I know they did," Lance grinned. "They'll be there."  
"I almost feel sorry for them," Fred admitted. "Wanda's merciless."  
"Yeah."  
They walked in silence through the barren school corridors. The place cleared out swiftly after the last bell. Pietro was seated in the jeep when Fred and Lance approached.  
"Where's Todd?" Fred looked around for their youngest friend.  
Pietro was slumped against the front passenger seat, resting the side of his face against the headrest. His blue eyes trained on Fred, "Went to get some water."  
"We got water at home. I thought you guys would be ready to go," Lance was rolling his eyes and starting the jeep. "Move up front Pietro; I just turned the heat on. You probably should have waited indoors for us."  
Pietro sluggishly slid through the gap separating the driver's and passenger's seats from each other and plopped down in the shotgun position. He placed his hands on the vents to feel the hot air as it escaped.  
Fred got into the backseat and the car tipped a bit on the side he had gotten in on. "How long are we gonna wait for Todd? He knew better than to leave..."  
"He's doing me a favor, chill," Pietro snapped. "It's your fault anyway. We've been ready to go for over 20 minutes. If you'd have come out when the bells rang, I'd still have fluid, and Todd wouldn't have had to go refill my bottle. What took so long?"  
"I was taking a test," Fred said. "Sorry for making you wait."  
Pietro looked slightly guilty after hearing Fred tell what he was doing. "Oh. So..um...how did you do on it?"  
Fred gave him a faint smile. "I think I did ok; Mrs. Frank glanced over it when I turned it in, and she looked pleased."  
"Mrs. Frank's the cool teacher you have, right?"  
"Yeah, that's her... Hey, do you think you could ask your Miss Martha to bake her some gingerbread? I'd love to give her something, but I don't have any money, and my cooking is...not good." Fred's previous good mood after taking the test and seeing Mrs. Frank smile at it returned. He forgot about the mall mission and leaned his head into the front seat to see if Pietro was thinking over his request.  
"I...haven't really spoken to anyone from the Bookstore besides Aunt Elena, since I had to tell Aunt Sally and Aunt Mae I couldn't work there anymore."  
"Oh," Fred wanted to press the issue some more. Women loved Pietro, and he was sure not calling for a week wouldn't make a difference to those shop ladies, but Pietro in return loved those ladies. It might be hurtful for him to call them, knowing that he couldn't help them out anymore or see them as often as he used to.  
"But I can call, if you're really serious. I need to call them anyway. They probably think I died, or I hate them, or something crazy like that. Old women go so overboard when they start worrying...well not Aunt Sal, but she's a different kind of lady."  
"They don't have the number to the Boarding House?"  
"No. I just don't think it's a good idea to give out the number. I call who I need to speak to or go meet them somewhere. I don't even think I gave them our address," Pietro began fiddling with the radio stations. He stopped on an Alternative station and left it there. "Sorry Freddy, but if I listen to anymore Country Western I'll scream."  
The jeep bounced as a body jumped into the seat beside Fred. "Hey-- here you two are! We been waiting forever. Here Quickie," Todd panted and tossed a sports bottle full of fountain water at Pietro, who caught it with both hands. "I washed out the bottle for ya and everything."  
"You're too kind," Pietro said, before popping open the bottle and taking a deep drink.  
"Can we go now or does anyone have anything else they can't wait until we get home to get?" Lance asked glancing at each one of them.  
They all shook their heads, 'no', and Lance proceeded to drive out of the parking lot.  
"You guzzle water faster than a whale," Lance commented on Pietro who was nearly halfway finished chugging the water he'd just gotten.  
"My throat hurts... so what?"  
"Nothing, I was just saying. Geez, does someone need a nap?"  
"Yes actually," Pietro grouched, "and it's the first thing I'm gonna do when we get back. Screw Mystique if she wants me to do anything. I almost fell asleep in 7th period, and Ms. Jones wanted to send me to the nurse. I hate Nurse Nancy."  
"Why?" Fred asked. He'd seen the lady; she was pretty and blond and looked nice.  
"She's too bubbly," Pietro shuddered. "It gives me hives to be around people like that. I had a foster mother like that. Needless to say when I lived with her, her happy-ass husband, and her 5 perky biological children, I felt like I was trapped in an episode of the Brady Bunch Does Jersey stuck on repeat. They called me Petey. I about died. Luckily, Mrs. Happy-Ass got pregnant again and decided that they needed the space I was taking up for Baby Giggles. Yes-- that is what they planned to name the baby; I am not making up names to be funny."  
"Giggles?" Todd choked. "Oh man... that's just wrong, yo."  
"Hey, the other kids were named Happy, Sunshine, Rosy, Chipper, and Merry, like the word 'merry.'"  
"No way," Lance breathed. "No parent could be that cruel."  
"What's worse is that they liked their names... Happy, Sunshine, Rosy, Chipper, Merry, and Petey Childers. 'Pietro' was a little too sophisticated for them, and Maximoff sounded 'gloomy.'"  
"Oh God. How long did you stay with them?"  
"Two months, then I got shipped back to New York. I was so traumatized by the time I got back. I mean between the happy camp songs they sang in the car, no TV watching, and no sweets or foods with additives, I'm lucky I came out of the experience intact. It was like a Care Bear Cult! Evil, raw evil, I tell you..."  
Fred, Todd, and Lance guffawed at Pietro's traumatic childhood memory. "Hey, at least you didn't have foster parents that tried to change your name to Leutius and make you wear bow ties...in 6th grade!"  
"Leutius?" Todd exclaimed. "You were a Leutius, yo?! Haha!" He smacked the back of Lance's seat playfully.  
"Didn't you hate it when they tried to change your name?" Pietro asked airily. He played with the empty bottle in his lap absently as he stared at the passing scenery.  
"Yeah... like they were gonna adopt you or something."  
"I didn't want any of them to adopt me," Pietro sighed. "Six years of foster care, countless amount of new parents, and I never met any worth remembering."  
Fred couldn't relate, and he glanced at Todd knowing he felt the same. His heart went out to Lance and Pietro for going through such a horrible time in foster care...but at least they had someone for brief periods of time that they could say took care of them and may have even wanted them at one point. Fred was pushed out of his home when he was around 8; he was just getting too damn big and he ate too much. His Daddy had put him in the truck bed of his pickup and took him into town on business. Fred had gotten out at a gas station to get some candy, and when he'd come back out...his Daddy was gone.  
He was taken in by various people who wanted him to do hard labor for them. He'd been very strong, even as a young child, but no one ever wanted to keep him. When he'd been made a ward of the state social services didn't even hold onto him for long. Nobody wanted a stupid, giant 10- year- old that broke everything in his wake, in their home. He lived with a total of 8 families before he was given up on. He then decided to fend for himself and he was later recruited to participate in minor wrestling matches or to be the freak show at truck rallies and carnivals.  
Todd-- he looked at the younger boy again; he'd never been in foster care. He'd stayed with his drug-head mother until he'd been recruited by Mystique. He didn't talk much about her, just let them know that his life had sucked, and it was much better now. "Hey, Lance, you wanna take us to McDonald's again, yo? I'm starving. I could go for another chocolate shake."  
"Sure...you paying?"  
Todd frowned, then his eyes widened and a mischievous grin crept onto his face, "Yeah, yeah I'll pay."  
"With what money?" Fred demanded, he glared at the smaller mutant, "You ain't been stealing again, have ya?" He thought they'd broken Todd of the habit.  
"Eh... only from Matthews, but he deserved it. He was picking on me, so I picked his pocket. Figured he owned me some condensation for pain and suffering."  
"Did you just say 'condensation,' Todd?" Pietro peered into the backseat.  
"Uh....no, I said...uh... 'condemnation.'"  
"Compensation! I'm getting you a dictionary for your birthday," Pietro mumbled, turning back around in his seat.  
"So lets go!" Todd bounced.  
"Just how much does he have in there?" Lance wondered.  
Todd opened the wallet and peeled back the leather lips hiding the money. He thumbed through a number of green bills then whooped, "Forget McDonald's we can go to Red Lobster and get steak, lobster, and shrimp! There's 243 dollars in here!"  
The car nearly swerved as Lance started in surprise, "Damn....we can afford Chinese! You guys want take out?"  
"Yeah," Fred answered for everyone, he was never one to turn down food, especially free food. He figured he'd let the fact that Todd was stealing again slide for a while. Duncan Matthews was a jerk, and later that week, Fred would have to put him in his place for messing with Todd. "Hey, can we go to the new place?"  
"They don't have a window."  
"So we'll make one."

* * *

Wanda was in her room lying on her back on the floor, practicing her relaxation exercises, when a knock startled her into an upright position.  
Who in the hell could that be? Mystique and Miss Agatha never knocked and none of those chicken-shit boys dared to come to her door, not even that annoying little green one with the long tongue. Toad...Mystique always called him Toad. She doubted that was his real name and had tried to listen to the boys on occasion when they spoke to try to pick up his name....all of their names besides their code names. She knew Lance, and Freddy the Blob...she felt sure the little one's name was Todd or something pretty close to it.  
The door swung inward violently and she prepared her coldest glare for the person who would be revealed standing behind the door.  
Pietro stood there looking stricken by her unfriendly expression, holding a small plastic bag with Chinese characters printed on it. She could tell he was struggling not to take a step back. He offered her a watery smile and extended the arm holding the bag toward her. "Uh...we got Chinese. I thought you might be hungry, and there's no good food downstairs. I got you shrimp lo mein; I remember you liked that. I put plenty of little packets of soy sauce in there and chopsticks and napkins, so you won't have to come down for anything, if you don't want to."  
He shifted uncomfortably after the last word left his lips, and he waited nervously for Wanda to either take or reject the meal.  
Wanda wanted to snicker at him; there was no way she'd turn down decent food. It pulled at her heart strings to know he still remembered what she liked...or rather what she had liked as a small child. She got up from her sitting position on the floor, walked to Pietro, took the bag from him without thanks, and glared at him up close.  
He was too pale, she noticed right off, and his eyes had a glassy, feverish appearance to them. His body was painfully thin and overdressed for the moderate heat of the Boarding House, yet he shivered.  
It had been a few days since he'd told her he had the flu; he should have looked better, not worse. "Well... I'll see you tonight," he mumbled, turning to leave, and on an impulse, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder. The bones in her grasp felt brittle; exactly as they'd felt when she and Pietro were children. Wanda had always been afraid Magneto would break her brother's little bones without even knowing the real damage he had caused. She wondered if her fingers gripping his shoulder would leave a bruise; when they were little, all it took was a little pinch to leave a quarter sized bruise on Pietro's pale skin.  
His body went rigid, and Wanda turned him around so she could place a hand against his face. "You're still sick."  
His eyes widened in surprise and he didn't respond.  
"You shouldn't come if you're really not feeling up to it," Wanda said simply, then closed her door in his face.  
The mirror cracked as she set down her meal, and she groaned in frustration. Dealing with Pietro always made her lose her center. She knew what she had to do...but she just couldn't bring herself to start a real conversation with him. Pietro was the one good with words, but he was too afraid to talk to her.  
She really gave him no reason not to be though, but she just couldn't warm her demeanor to him. She cared, and she worried, but she had gotten so used to hiding emotions like those she was afraid she didn't know how to show them anymore.  
She'd watched Pietro and noticed all of the little things he did to show he cared. Simple considerations like not using up all the hot water in the shower if he got to it first. There was strawberry yogurt cups in the dingy fridge for her breakfast that no one touched, but her. She hadn't told anyone what she liked or disliked; Pietro had known alone, meaning he had told whoever bought the groceries to pick them up for her. He'd left extra blankets at her door when it was especially chilly at night, and today, he'd brought her food.  
Her brother was trying, and the least she could do was break the ice first. She pulled the sweaty styrofoam containers out of the plastic bag and popped the lid on the box that held the main entree. She inhaled the delicious aroma of shrimp and vegetables, smiling at the memory that surfaced.  
  
_Wanda tried again with the thin wooden sticks and watched grumpily as the slimy noodles and large shrimp slid from her grasp back into the tiny white carton.  
Pietro grinned at her from across the table as he deftly used his chopsticks to scoop up his dinner and stuff it into his mouth. He always caught on to new things so much more quickly than she did, and sometimes she wanted to strangle him for it.  
The twins ate in the small lonely kitchen under the bright glare of the flourescent light bolted to the low ceiling. They shared a single Pepsi between them; their two glasses were filled halfway with the dark carbonated beverage. Wanda would have preferred her own, but then her dear hyperactive brother would want his own as well. Pietro was not allowed to drink full sodas by himself and he was to have no more than one half of a can a day. Pietro reached for his drink and chugged it down as he finished his meal. He dropped his chopsticks into the empty white carton neatly and rested his chin on his hands to gaze at Wanda who was still wrestling with her noodles.  
"Why don't you just use a fork, Wanda?"  
"Because I want to use chopsticks," she growled at him. If Pietro could use chopsticks, so could she! She tried to recall the instructions that had came on the package the sticks had come in.  
"I could show you!"  
"You move too fast, Pietro," Wanda glared at her brother.  
"I can move slow," Pietro said. "Just let me try!"  
"Oh, all right." Wanda watched him pull his chopsticks back out of his box, and he crawled under the table instead of walking around it to meet her.  
He slipped into the chair beside her and flexed his pale wrists, "Now watch." He held the sticks between his forefingers and slowly demonstrated how he would grab a shrimp, a vegetable, and a few noodles, then he raised the assortment and tucked it into his mouth. "Now you try."  
Wanda spilled food in her lap.  
"Ok, watch again."  
He demonstrated again.  
Wanda almost made it to her mouth after taking nearly a minute to pick up the food.  
"Watch one more time," Pietro showed her how.  
Wanda watched carefully and slowly was able to arrange her food just right and make it to her mouth. She had learned how to use chopsticks! She kissed Pietro with a mouth full of shrimp and smirked when he cringed away.  
She went for another helping of food with her newfound talent when she realized, "Hey most of my food is gone...PIETRO! You ate most of my food while you were demonstrating!"  
Pietro gave her an impish grin and downed the rest of HER soda before running off laughing like a hyena with Wanda not too far behind him waving her chopsticks menacingly.  
_  
Oh Pietro, the least I can do is give you a chance to explain yourself. She sighed deeply and traced the new crack she'd created in her mirror. After we get back from the mall tonight, we'll talk.  
I promise.

* * *

Author's Note: Well that's it. How was it? Like it, hate it, don't care either way? Let me know! Be kind and review! :) 


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for all of the great reviews! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. I have the next one ready and waiting. Reviewer responses are at the bottom.**

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**Chapter 7**

**Lance shook his head at how predictable the X-Men were. He watched them filing into the darkened mall in a line. Just how stupid were they to be walking into such an obvious trap. Didn't one of them wonder just what the Brotherhood might want at the mall after hours? Were they coming to fight over the last pair of gray cargo pants at Old Navy? Lance rolled his eyes. **

**"Avalanche, they're coming in. Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, and Spyke are heading up to the second level. Shadowcat will be in your vicinity shortly. Be wary," the small tired voice of Pietro crackled through a small speaker in his right ear. **

**Lance, Freddy, and Todd were placed strategically around the mall to encounter and provoke the X-Men into altercation; then they were to herd them all toward the fountain where Wanda would put in her first appearance. Pietro was in the security surveillance room where he was given a complete view of every location in the mall. They were all kept in contact with each other via the communicators Mystique had provided for them. Lance felt like a member of the Secret Service wearing the earpiece; all he needed were some sunglasses. **

**Lance stiffened as he heard footsteps. He ducked inside a shop and watched as Kitty walked by, looking highly suspicious of her surroundings. Lance let out a sigh and decided to step out. "Kitty."**

**"Whoa!" The brown haired girl jumped. She turned to see Lance coming up behind her. "What's this about?"**

**You should have asked yourself that before you chose to come here, Lance thought briefly. "Look, thing's are going to get kind of ugly here, and I don't want to see you hurt. You need to get out of here."**

**"Lance? What's going? What are you guys planning?"**

**"Avalanche, what are you doing?" Pietro's voice hissed at him.**

**"Leave me alone, Quicksilver; this is my business!"**

**"Quicksilver?" Kitty looked around for the boy Lance had named. "Where..?"**

**"Don't worry about it," Lance breathed softly. He took Kitty gently by the wrist and pulled her closer to him, so that they were looking each other in the eyes. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the pretty girl before him who had proven to be out of his league more times than he count, but he knew he didn't want to see her injured. He didn't know what Wanda had in mind; in every practice, she managed to surprise them with her abilities. The only thing Lance could be sure of was that whatever Wanda had up her sleeve, it was going to be highly destructive, and this mall wasn't too sturdy. He knew; he'd checked the foundation earlier with a slight quake. "Kitty, I want you to get out of here, please."**

**

****Kitty blinked, narrowing her blues eyes as she stared at him. Her pinks lips pursed, and she pulled her wrists from his grasp. "I can't, but if you're so concerned about me, why don't you call whatever this is off before whatever you're so afraid of happens."**

**"I'm not in charge of this mission," Lance sighed. He stepped away from Kitty sadly; he'd warned her, and that was about all he could do. He couldn't carry her out of there without abandoning the mission himself. He didn't agree with all of the aspects of it, but the thought of finally beating Summers at something was absolutely delicious and he would not deprive himself of such a guilty pleasure. Every now and then a boy had to indulge himself. **

**Kitty rolled her eyes, "Like, whatever, Lance. If you don't have anything else to say, I'm moving on..."**

**"Avalanche, Scarlet Witch is ready to make her move. Toad and Blob already have most of the X-Men in place; get moving with Shadowcat and Nightcrawler."**

**"What about Spyke?" Lance asked quietly, watching as Kitty began to walk away from him. He wasn't going to let her get too far from him if he could help it.**

**"I'll handle Spykey-boy; don't worry about it." Lance could hear the grin in Pietro's voice. "Quicksilver, if you leave that room to..."**

**"Too late... Nightcrawler's joining Shadowcat; round them up and bring them down to the others before..."**

**There was a loud crash and a startled feminine cry.**

**"Jean!" Lance heard Kitty yell. He whipped his head to see Kitty standing next to Kurt and watched the both of them disappear in a puff of smoke. Well that was easy. He could only assume they were going to down to help their friends, effectively doing his job for him. His stomach lurched a bit as he thought about Kitty in the line of fire... **

**Oh well... he'd done what he could. She didn't respect him enough to take his suggestions to heart. That was her problem. Time to leave. He certainly wasn't planning on being inside the mall once Wanda really got started.**

**"Toad, Blob, Quicksilver? Everyone clear to go?"**

**"Already outside, Avalanche," Todd's voice sounded smug.**

**"I'm heading for the jeep, La...er...Avalanche," Freddy's unsteady voice was static-riddled. **

**"Quicksilver?" Lance inquired.**

**No response.**

**"Yo, Quickie?" Todd called.**

**"Pietro?" Fred asked softly.**

**"Shit," Lance breathed. "You two stay where you are; I'll find him."**

**Damn you, Pietro; I told you to stay home. If you're not already hurt, _I'm_ going to hurt you!**

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**"Pietro what's going on?" Evan grabbed Pietro by the shoulders as the ground began to shake. "Avalanche?"**

**Pietro shook his head. Evan wished it was Avalanche. "We have to get out of here, Evan. Look, you helped me out on Asteroid M, and I'm going to help you out now. This is a big trap, and people might get..."**

**

****"A trap? Of course it's a trap, but if you're bothering to set it, we wanted to see what it was about. We can take anything you guys throw at us! You're the losing team...but you're not a loser Pietro. I don't understand why you choose to stand with them still."**

**Pietro growled low in his throat, "We're not losers..."**

**"I didn't say YOU were."**

**"No one's a loser," Pietro shook his head. "Look, I just wanted to return a favor, but I'm not sure I want to anymore."**

**Evan's face hardened a bit at the statement. "Pietro, I don't mean to offend you, man. So you like the other guys in the Brotherhood. Maybe they are nice guys once you get to know them, but Max, you're not like them. Those guys...they aren't going anywhere, ever. They can't help you to be anybody great, but at the Institute... Max, you'd love it. You could drown yourself in books, and there's a guy there, Dr. McCoy. You can ask him all the questions you want, and he'll either know the answer or won't stop until he helps you find it. You would do so well there with me, with us..."**

**"Are you trying to recruit me again?" Pietro's eyes darted away from Evan at another loud crash and a girl's scream.**

**"Jean," Evan whispered. He looked at Pietro, "What's going on?"**

**Pietro stared at Evan, "The trap's been sprung. Why don't you go and see what it is?"**

**"I'm tired of playing these games with you! What is it that you want? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you to forgive me for being a jerk? A few years ago you would have joined the X-Men just to be with me. How do I get that back?"**

**"You can't" Pietro spat. "You snubbed me, Danny. You turned your nose up and walked away from me. I'm just another poor kid in foster care to you."**

**"I was 13 and stupid! You were gone and I needed someone to hang out with! I didn't know... It... I don't have a good excuse for being an asshole to you at all. I hate myself for letting those guys walk all over me and trying to please them by being something I wasn't. By the time I realized it, you already hated me and we had gotten so competitive I was starting to channel some of that hate. If I could go back..."**

**"You wouldn't make the same choices, huh?" Pietro sneered. "Well, you can't go back. No one can! And...I can't forgive you. I don't take well to being rejected, Danny. You know that! You blew it; I don't need you anymore."**

**"You need someone, and it's not those guys in the Brotherhood," Evan huffed. More panicked yells and sounds of heavy objects falling interrupted their debate. "Max, even if you hate me, you owe it to yourself to give the X-Men a chance. You're better than the Brotherhood. I mean, why would you want to work for an organization run by that nut Magneto?"**

**Pietro's body tensed at the mention of his father's name. "He's not a nut."**

**"Don't tell me you believe the things he says!"**

**"What if I do?" Pietro challenged.**

**The lights flickered on and off.**


	9. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews and sorry for the wait! Here is the new chapter and I hope you all enjoy it!

Reviewer Responses:

... : Hehehe, that just looks funny! Wow. You really think so? Well, I'm glad that you do, and thank you for telling me! I love trying to get behind characters and their actions and create rationalizations for them. Thank you for reviewing and I hope you like and review this chapter as well :).

Nessie6: Why the font is bold? I updated this story at work and while my word program and the one at work are compatible, they still do funny things when it comes to converting different fonts over. What is Pietro saying when he speaks Romanian? Nothing important. It was all gibberish and silly things people mumble when they are not thinking clearly and panicking. When he comes to his senses and says a few things in conversation, I'll translate :). Thanks for reviewing and take care girl! Keep updating ;)

DigitalAngel4U: Hehehe, Lance...motherly...hehehe! But you know what?- he is! I'm glad you're liking Pietro's bookstore family. They are about to come back into the story. I miss them :). I'm also glad you like Evan wanting to rebuild the friendship. I've read so many stories where the deterioration of their friendship was Pietro's fault...so I thought I would try something new :). I find the Sinte dialogue on a culture page and I get the Romanian from a translator page and a Romanian dictionary with words and common phrases :). Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter and will review again :) Take care!

AIMAS: Lol, here is more. Don't worry about the Romanian. When I don't translate it, it means its gibberish that wouldn't make sense in English anyway lol. Thanks for reviewing and take care!

BurnBadArt: Here's your Pietro Angst, you meanie lol! I hope you like it :). Thank you for reviewing and please review again! Take care!

DemonRogue13: :) Thank you and thank you for reviewing just about every chapter lol! Take care!

* * *

Chapter 8

"He's not in his room," Todd took the stairs by two's. "Where could he be, yo?" He joined Lance and Fred in the foyer. Both older mutants looked perplexed. They had arrived at the boarding house only minutes earlier to find it empty. There was no sign that Pietro had come back since the mission, and Mystique was nowhere to be found. Wanda had gone straight to her room and hadn't returned.

"You think Mystique took him for something?" Freddy asked.

Lance frowned and rubbed his stomach absently. "What would that something be?"

"I don't know. You know she wants revenge on Magneto, and Pietro is his kid after all. Maybe she..."

"I'll kill that bitch if she has him," Lance muttered darkly and Todd winced. Lance was starting to scare him. He had never heard him utter a death threat in that tone of voice before... a tone that indicated that he meant to follow through with what he said.

"Lance, just calm down, yo..."

"Calm down? Pietro's missing! We have no idea where he could be and he's sick; he could be hurt too!" The foundation of the house rumbled, and Fred and Todd looked around at the cracking walls in dismay.

"Lance stop! It ain't gonna help nothing, if you bring the house down on our heads!" Todd snapped. "We just... need to come up with something, that's all. You're smart, yo. If we sit here long enough, you'll come up with something; you always do."

"Pietro always does! He's the one with the plans, though most of them get us in trouble."

"And yours get us out," Freddy pointed out.

Lance sat down hard on the overstuffed sofa and rested his head in his hands. "The only other place in town I can think of is the X-place. Why they would have him, I don't know, but maybe they'll help us look."

"After what happened today, you think they'll help us?" Fred asked, sounding dubious.

"They're the good guys; they always do things no one in their right mind would consider doing for the sake of being good," Lance grumbled. "They'll help us."

Lance stood from the couch, "Everybody go change, then we're gonna go to the Institute."

"Should we tell Wanda?" Todd glanced up the stairs and Lance shook his head.

"She wouldn't care anyway," Lance shrugged.

They all went up to their respective rooms to change and were back down in moments. As they walked to the door, they heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway. The single headlight flared in through the front window and died along with the engine. Lance held out a hand to keep Todd behind him as he completed his trek to the door. Slowly he opened it and waited as whoever it was came to the doorstep.

Todd gasped when he recognized the approaching figure. It was Wolverine. Quickly, he ran to get behind Lance followed by Freddy. There was no way they were going to let Lance take on Wolverine by himself.

"What do you want?" Lance asked, his voice tainted with just the right amount of indifference to not seem anxious.

Wolverine folded his arms over his chest and glared at Lance silently before gruffly answering, "Quicksilver's at the mansion."

"What? Why is he there?"

"Seems he had a little fainting spell on Spyke, and he got mixed up with our kids. He's in the infirmary being checked out. The Professor sent me to give you the message."

Todd felt his heart skip in relief. Pietro was ok; he was with the...enemy. He grabbed Lance's arm.

"He's ok?" Lance questioned.

"He's alive," Wolverine growled. "He was pretty damned lucky our kids still wanted to help him after the stunt you pulled tonight."

Lance narrowed his eyes, "Yeah, whatever. We're coming to get him. Are you guys gonna let us in without a fight or what?"

"I wouldn't be here telling you where he was, if I was looking forward to a fight," Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Follow me back to the mansion."

Wolverine turned and walked back to his motorcycle, and Lance sighed, jingling his keys in his hand. "Come on guys, lets go get Pietro."

Todd nodded, "Wait... shouldn't we grab something for him? Like a jacket, some clothes? All he had on was his uniform when we left."

Lance inclined his head at the thought, "Get a jacket and something for him to wear, Todd, and be quick about it. You got 60 seconds."

Todd gave a short yelped and hopped toward and up the stairs as fast as he could. He opened the door to Pietro's room and went straight for his closet. He pulled down a leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans, and a long sleeved black shirt. He thought about grabbing socks and shoes briefly and shrugged. Pietro could just wear his Quicksilver sneaker-boots. That would make a major fashion statement, he snickered.

He hopped back down the stairs with his good after turning off Pietro's light and closing the door. "Hurry up Todd!"

"Coming, I'm coming!" Todd was out of breath by the time he reached his friends.

"It's about time."

"Hey! I'd like to see one of you guys do that faster," Todd grunted. They piled into the jeep and waited for the motorcycle to rev up and take off, before cutting on the headlights and pulling out of the driveway.

"Hey, why do you think we gotta go get Quickie? Why couldn't Wolverine just bring him?" Todd frowned. "You think something's wrong with him?"

No one said anything.

"Oh man."

* * *

Fred had been told to wait in the lobby. He was too large to fit into the small room the X-Men were keeping Pietro in. Lance assured him that he and Todd wouldn't take very long in there, and that they would come right out with a sheepish Pietro between them. It had been 30 minutes, and Fred hadn't seen anything but the occasional X-Geek walk by, gazing at him fearfully. He didn't dignify their looks with responses.

What could be taking so long? Fred would have paced if he wasn't afraid he might break something in the delicate X-mansion. He was so clumsy and people around there might actually care if something got broken. They had things worth caring about.

"Fred." Fred's head jerked in the direction of the room Lance, Todd, the Professor, Summers, and Grey had disappeared into. Summers closed the door behind him and walked toward him, his face free of any distaste.

"What is it?" Why hadn't Lance or Todd come out?

"Lance asked me to come out and tell you everything's fine. He said you might be upset at them taking so long," Summers took across from Fred on the couch.

"What's going on in there? Why is it taking so long? I mean, this is Pietro we're talking about." Fred tried not to sound afraid, but he failed.

"Fred," Summers frowned, "Pietro's very sick. I'm sure you knew that right?"

"Yeah, he's had the flu for a few days now," Fred nodded. "We....we didn't want to take him with us tonight, but Mystique said we had to. He's... not dying or something is he?"

"Not if we're careful," Summers said softly.

Fred's heart leapt into his throat and his stomach hollowed and dropped to the floor. For once in his life, Fred felt he had lost his ever-present appetite. "Oh God..."

"Calm down," Summers said. "Lance will be out to talk to you in a minute, and he's only going to tell you what I'm about to say. If you'd rather wait for him to..."

"What Summers? Tell me now!"

"Pietro will have to stay at the Institute. Mr. McCoy is giving him treatment intravenously and he needs to be monitored closely for allergic reaction or any sign of decline in his condition."

"Ok... And if he stays here and you guys take care of him, he'll be ok?"

Summers nodded his head, "Hopefully."

Fred frowned, "But why are you guys helping us? I know you're the good guys and all, but we just trashed you. If I was you, I would have thrown us out."

"The X-Men don't work that way Fred. We help whoever needs it."

The door to the room opened again and Lance and Todd came out. Lance looked sick and Todd looked like a small child after a slasher film. Summers stood, "I'll..uh...leave you guys alone. Lance, I'll bring some stuff down for you, ok?"

Lance's shoulders tensed. "Yeah, ok. T...thanks."

"No problem," Summers left the lobby.

"Why's he bringing stuff down for you, Lance?" Fred asked. Lance's dark eyes were heavy, and he walked as if a large block of cement sat atop his shoulders. He stopped before Fred and knelt down a bit to touch his knees.

"Freddy, he's so sick. He's so delirious he can't understand English, much less speak it. McCoy says he's got some kind of pneumonia and his mutation is affecting it and making it multiply faster than he can fight it. He's got him on all sorts of IV's, one's feeding him, one's giving him water, one's giving him medicine." Lance grimaced and bowed his head onto one of Fred's knees. "This is all my fault. I knew it was a bad idea; I knew I should have told Mystique to go screw herself and made him stay home. He wasn't this bad when we left..."

"Lance, he didn't do anything tonight. He didn't use his powers at all," Todd tried to comfort Lance. He came and laid a hand on Lance's quivering back. "It would have happened anyway. Maybe... maybe it was a good thing he came with us. If it would have happened at home, no one would have been there to help him. And even if we had been home, what would we have done, yo?"

"It wasn't just tonight, Todd! All the training and going to school... I let him exhaust himself. I shouldn't have let Mystique boss us around. She left us for months to fend for ourselves and be our own people, and when she returned, we became her lapdogs all over again. What power does she really have over us? If we were to say no, what could she do? Could she really take all of us? She's not with Magneto anymore."

"But Lance, she's our boss... She gave us the boarding house," Fred stuttered, shocked at Lance's outburst.

"And what a fine place that is, too," Lance sneered.

"But Lance, without the boarding house, where else do we have to go? I'm not going back to my Mom, yo... and you're almost 18; you're out of luck when it comes to social services now. And Fred...nobody wants him! And what about Pietro? Think old Mags would come for him again? Face it Lance: we're nobody's, we're losers, we're the kids no one wants... if someone's willing to give us a chance, we gotta take it."

"In that case Mr. Tolensky..."

Lance raised his head from Fred's knee, and both Todd and Fred's heads snapped to the door Professor Xavier was rolling out of followed by Jean. "I'm willing to give you a chance."

Todd pressed his lips together in a thin line, "I already took a chance here. You didn't want me."

"Maybe if you had come here with good intentions, we would have been nicer," Jean said sharply. "You came in here and started fighting with Kurt. You caused over 500 dollars worth of damage to the hallway."

"Five-hundred dollars is nothing to you!" Todd spat.

"Did you even apologize?"

"For what?" Todd blinked.

Jean sighed and said nothing else.

"Todd, we did not have the best of beginnings, but we're willing to try again. You do not have to become X-Men; that is not a requirement of my students."

"But we'll have to pay you back somehow, right?" Lance stood up. "I already tried the X-Man thing and it didn't work out, but I can't offer you anything else. I don't have any money. I can work, but..."

"Lance, I don't want money or anything else from you, but cooperation. The only thing I will expect from you is good behavior and restraint from using your powers in public."

"That can't be all. There has to be some kind of a catch to it," Fred said flatly. There was always a catch.

"I assure you Fred, there is no catch," Professor Xavier said calmly.

"No..." Fred was shaking his head. There had to be something. No one _really_ does something for nothing. A light bulb flashed in Fred's brain. "You know who Pietro's father is. You figure if you have his son then maybe you can get Magneto to back off!"

Jean gasped beside the Professor; obviously, she hadn't known.

"Yes Fred, I know all about Pietro's heritage, but that is not why I'm going to help him. I have had no thoughts of Magneto at all."

"How do we know that? We ain't telepaths..."

"The Professor wouldn't lie!" Jean said.

"But..."

"Fred...Todd..." Lance looked at them both with dull eyes. He looked dead tired, defeated. "I don't really care what the Professor may be helping us for at this point. All I know is that they can help Pi in a way we can't. I'm not leaving him here alone, and if we take him out of here, he'll die. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of living hand- to- mouth in a dump that only has hot water once a month. I'm tired of worrying about bills and food. I'm just damn tired, and I can't take anymore. Who knows when Mystique will leave us again? If we tell her we're not going to do everything she says anymore, that Quicksilver is out of commission-- do you really think she's gonna stick around?"

Fred blinked, "Lance..." He wanted to argue and say that they were doing ok on their own, they never needed Mystique and if she left it would be ok, but he'd be lying. He wanted to whine and say that he didn't want to live in the X-Mansion with Jean Grey, but he'd only bring more stress to Lance. The burden of taking care of them all always fell on the older boy's shoulders.

"If you promise I won't have to do the X-Man thing again and Summers will stay off my case, I'm willing to try the mansion again. It's better than any other options we have...and it's not like we have a lot to choose from."

Fred looked to Todd who was scowling.

Lance sighed, "You guys don't have to stick with me on this. Just because I'm giving up doesn't mean you have to. You can continue on with Mystique how you were if you want, but this is it for me. No more."

"But that will split the group, Lance! We can't split up," Todd wailed.

Pain flashed in Lance's eyes and he whispered, "I'm sorry Todd."

"So that's it then?" Todd demanded. "All that junk you told me about us staying together to the end- about us being family; just cause we ran into some hard times you're ready to give it all up?"

"Todd, nothing would have to change if you would just choose to stay here..."

"I'm not staying in a place where everyone thinks they're better than me! The X-Geeks won't accept us! I don't want to live in another place where I'll be judged on my background and appearance. You guys don't care what I look like or that my Ma's no good. All of us are misfits. The Brotherhood- the Boarding House, it's a safe house for people like us! We can't sell out, Lance! So you don't like Mystique, so we have more bills than money, like Fred said earlier, we were doing ok. We'll try harder; I'll try harder! All together we can tell Mystique to take a hike..."

"She owns the Boarding House. What happens if she sells the land or reports us as vagrants?" Lance asked. "Todd, the Brotherhood is a dead end."

"I don't know!" Todd exclaimed. "I don't... Oh God, Lance! I can't live here, but I don't want to split the group either. Why can't we just stay until Quickie gets better, then we can all leave."

"Todd, we don't know how long that's going to take. It may be just like living here."

"Then you stay until he's better, then you come back," Todd said. "Just promise me you'll come back to us."

Lance covered his face with his hands, "I don't want to go back, Todd."

"You'll feel different after you've had a break from it. After a week or two you'll be so ready to come home, like you were the last time you stayed here..." Todd was close to begging. His golden eyes watered as he stared at Lance desperately. Lance looked away, his eyes also damp. Fred watched the exchange silently. He knew, as Todd did, that he would go back to the boarding house. He had no desire to be stared at like a side show at a circus either, but he held no ill will toward Lance for wanting to stay. If Lance thought he would be happier there, then he had Fred's blessings.

"Freddy..." Todd's asked weakly.

"I'll go wherever you do, Todd," Fred said gently. He and Lance shared a knowing look.

"Lance... please?"

Lance looked down at the floor, then back at Todd. He balled his hands into fists at his sides, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. "Todd..."

"When Pietro's better you'll both come back, ok? Just...just say it."

"I... I..."

"Don't make me beg in front of the X-men, Lance, please," Todd croaked.

"Todd, don't make Lance choose," Fred finally put himself into the spat. He shot Lance a worried look as one of the older boy's arms wrapped around his middle. He was probably going to throw up after this. Todd was in such emotional distress that he couldn't see Lance's physical distress.

"Freddy, he's leaving us! Don't you care? He wants to leave us!"

"Todd, Lance ain't happy where he is right now..."

"Us being apart won't make it better..." Todd muttered.

"Todd, he's gotta try something new. He's making himself sick. If he stays, we'll be here again with him in Pietro's place."

"Fred, you don't have to..." Lance began.

"Shut up, Lance. You do what's best for you, ok? Don't you worry about us none. I'll take care of Todd; we'll be ok. You stay here with Pietro, and when he's all better and he wants to come back and you decide to come back with him, then it's all good. If you don't...then it's still good, because that will mean that you found something that made you happy. You were always trying to make sure all of us were ok, but you never did anything for yourself. Stay Lance; don't come back. I don't wanna see you tearing yourself up no more. You're good-looking, you're smart, you're almost legal... you got a lot more going for you than I do, buddy, and I don't wanna see you wasting it on us."

"You mean that Freddy?" Lance asked, staring at Fred with an emotion shining in his eyes that Fred couldn't identify.

Fred nodded, feeling a trifle uncomfortable with the way Lance was looking at him.

"You both can drop dead!" Todd yelled. He pushed past Lance and moved around Freddy in a dead run.

"Todd!" Lance was going to give chase but Fred put out an arm to stop him.

"Let him cool off. He won't be looking for any trouble tonight. I'll go back to the boarding house, and I'll bet he'll show up there some time or other. I'll bring you and Pietro some stuff in the morning. Just call and tell me what you need."

Lance nodded, looking for all the world like a lost 10- year-old.

"And... I guess someone should tell Wanda her brother's safe. I'll do that. I don't know what I'm gonna tell Mystique... Should I tell her you're here?"

"She'll figure it out," Lance said quietly. "You won't have to say anything to her."

"All right," Fred nodded. He and Lance were quiet and finally their attention shifted back to the Professor and Jean who had been silent spectators of their emotional altercation. Feeling extremely self conscious, Fred asked, "Can I use your jeep?"

"Of course." Lance dug in his pocket for the keys and dropped them into Fred's large palm.

"Well, I'll see you," Fred shifted a bit and began to move toward the lobby exit, when Lance hugged him- or rather, tried to hug him; there was no way his arms were long enough to wrap around Fred's bulk. Fred was stiff in Lance's hold, slowly he relaxed and patted the other boy's back.

"Thank you," Lance told him.

Fred smiled, "I'll see about filling the tank up on the jeep. No use in bringing it back to you on empty."

"It's always on empty."

"It won't be come morning, ok? Get some sleep, and tell Pietro I was here, if he...you know," Fred ended awkwardly. "Just take care of him, and don't forget to call me in the morning and let me know what you want me to bring ya."

"I won't. Goodnight, Fred."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Wanda had scrubbed the makeup from her face as soon as she had gotten in and ay on her bed in an oversized t-shirt reflecting on what had happened earlier that night. Pietro bringing her dinner, the mall where she'd thoroughly beaten the X-Men, and then returning to the boarding house...without Pietro. Her brother was missing and she didn't know how to feel about it.

She had been planning to talk to him that night. She wanted to find out what happened the night their father had her locked away. She wanted to know about his life afterward. Maybe he'd been miserable too. When she was younger, she would have believed that he was. Pietro couldn't do anything without her; she was his security blanket.

The others were out looking for him. Where else could he be? The muscles in her stomach clenched and she gritted her teeth against the feelings of... fear and concern? She shouldn't feel those sorts of things for Pietro. He had betrayed her; he'd forgotten about her...

She didn't know if that was true anymore and...

Oh, who was she fooling? She was scared to death something awful had happened to him. He had looked and sounded horrible when they'd gone into the mall. She wanted to say something; she should have said something... but she kept telling herself it wasn't her business; she would talk to him later that night. Now here it was later, and she was alone.

Why hadn't the others asked her if she had wanted to come with them to look for her brother?

They were afraid of her. Everyone was afraid of her, but she gave them no reason not to be. If she frightened anyone who tried to get close to her away, she wouldn't have to worry about them hurting her later. She was lonely as hell, but in a perfect state of homeostasis, except when it came to Pietro.

She was always making exceptions for Pietro.

_"Wanda, they're playing kick ball!" Pietro stared out of their bedroom window wistfully. Wanda turned her head away from the small black and white television where she was watching Jeopardy to study him. Her brother was small for their age, smaller than her, and his eyes sometimes seemed too large for his thin face. It gave him a hungry look that grew sharper when he wished he could do things like the kids they went to school with. _

_Living with their father was different than living in the caravan in Transia. With father, they were only allowed to speak English; if they were heard speaking Sinte or Romanian they were spanked. Wanda hated English; she hated the abrupt endings to the words, and hated the way the kids at school teased her about her accent. She hated the strict schedule Father made them keep. She hated the lab, but most of all she hated the American kids. In the caravan, the kids hadn't liked them much either, but at least they hadn't been ridiculed for their speech along with their background and appearance. In Transia, they'd had Mama and Tata, they'd had cousins who were a little older, but who would play with them; they had been happy. Here they had nothing._

_"I want to go outside," Pietro said, pressing a tiny hand against the glass pane of the window._

_"We can't," Wanda said. She turned back to the television. The mousy looking woman with glasses had gotten the Daily Double. She sighed and added Jeopardy to the list of things she hated too. She would change the channel, but sadly, it was the only one that came in clearly that Father approved of. They were not allowed to watch cartoons or sitcoms, so the television never held Pietro's attention for long. _

_"Father's not here right now. He wouldn't know," Pietro began to tap his feet on the wooden floor impatiently._

_"Father knows everything," Wanda said flatly. "Besides, the kids won't let us play. We're weird, remember?" _

_"They let me play with them at recess today," Pietro said softly._

_Wanda had been in time out for recess for being rude to the teacher. Pietro hadn't told her he'd played with the other children. "They let you play?"_

_"Yes. I just got in the line they make to choose teams, and one of them chose me. After the game, they said I was cool. They'll let me play again tomorrow; I just know it. You can play too!"_

_"I don't want to play with them!" Wanda snapped; on the outside she showed insolence, but inside she ached. She knew the kids wouldn't want her to play. They'd only approached Pietro because she wasn't with him. Pietro was the likeable one, though he was stranger in appearance than Wanda. He was the one that their cousins had payed more attention to when they played with them. The teacher in their American school had never given Pietro a time out, though he deserved one more than most of the other kids for his mischief. _

_Pietro frowned. "I don't want to stay inside all day. It's so pretty out, and... Father's not here."_

_"If he finds out we went outside, he'll punish us," Wanda said gravely. She turned off the television and looked at Pietro, who was staring at her. When had he looked away from the window? _

_His large blue eyes were so sad. "I just want to play. I'm bored."_

_Pietro was always bored._

_"How come we never fit in wherever we go? There's always something that holds us back. In the caravan, it was how we looked; here it's father."_

_"And how we look too!"_

_"Not anymore, the kid's have forgotten already. American kids don't care who they play with, Wanda. I wanna play, and... I'm going to." Pietro jumped off the window sill. "You don't have to come, but..."_

_"I don't want to. I don't like them."_

_"You don't like anyone," Pietro sighed._

_Wanda frowned. "Except you."_

_Pietro gave her a small smile. "Except me. So, for me, will you come?"_

_"We'll be punished..."_

_"Only if we get caught. Father won't be home for another hour. If you keep the time, we'll be back before then!"_

_Wanda groaned. She didn't want to play kick ball; she didn't like the other kids; she didn't want to take the risk of being caught...but for Pietro... She gazed at him; he was so small and his eyes were so hopeful. Reluctantly, she stood up. "Let me put my shoes back on."_

_Pietro beamed at her and ran to get her shoes for her. "You can put them on outside! Hurry before they finish picking teams!" _

_Pietro was out the door at a speed that made Wanda blink. There was no way she was going to make it down the apartment stairs in time to catch up with him. She shook her head and glanced back at their small bedroom devoid of anything to personalize it. This was her sanctuary in New York and she hated to leave it when she didn't have to... except when it came to Pietro._

_One day he was going to be the death of her... _

Wanda sat up on the bed. Well if the Brotherhood hadn't invited her to join them, who said she still couldn't go on her own search for Pietro? She'd probably have better luck than any of those idiots anyway. How long had it been since they'd left? Maybe an hour...

She heard the door open and close downstairs and heard the lumbering footsteps of someone coming up the stairs. It could only be Fred. He was the only one big enough to make that much noise coming up the stairs. She didn't hear any more noise, making her wonder if the others were with him. She went to the door, opening it and peering out. The hallway was dark and Fred was but a large featureless mass trudging to his room.

Should she ask him? She'd never spoken directly to the giant before, but still... downstairs was so quiet. It was painfully obvious he had been the only one to enter the dwelling. "Fred?"

The giant paused and slowly maneuvered his large body around to face her. "Uh...Wanda."

"Did you find my brother?"

The giant fidgeted. "Uh...yeah. He's... uh...with the X-Men. Lance is with him."

Wanda's brows knitted together. Why was Pietro there?

"He's sick, Wanda, and the X-Men are gonna take care of him for a while. Lance is gonna stay."

Wanda forced herself to remain calm. Fred was telling her things she already knew. She knew Pietro was sick. Why was he with the X-Men? "Why is he staying there?"

Fred gulped audibly, "He's... really sick. The X-Men... Lance- they think he'll die, if we move him. He's got some weird pneumonia, and..."

They think he'll die... die... Pietro might... She heard the mirror break behind her in her bedroom and Fred started in fright. Calm down...calm down, she breathed. "Where are the X-Men? Where are they keeping him?"

"Their mansion...you... you don't want to go there, do you?"

Wanda growled at his stupidity. Of course she did! "Take me there."

"But I..."

"TAKE ME THERE!" Light bulbs sparked and shattered as Wanda fought to control herself.

"O...ok!" Fred cried. He moved past her warily as she glared at him. She was sure he hadn't been trying to frustrate her on purpose, but she couldn't help being angry with him. Stupid Blob.

Wanda slipped back into her room, avoiding broken glass and found a pair of baggy black jeans and her boots to put on. Fred hadn't even made it to the bottom of the staircase before she joined him. He glanced back at her nervously. "We have to get gas first; Lance's jeep is running on fumes."

Wanda scowled, but nodded. They had just reached the door, when it opened. Mystique stood silhouetted there with a pleased grin on her face. "You were successful tonight."

Fred said nothing, and Wanda blinked.

"I have new plans for you, now. Tomorrow we will go over them and begin training. Where are you going?"

"Um... to...uh get gas for the jeep," Fred stammered.

"Get it in the morning. You need to rest; tomorrow will be a busy day for you," Mystique folded her arms over her chest.

Wanda chewed the side of her cheek, trying to hold her temper in check. Mystique was keeping her from her objective. "Move, Mystique."

Mystique raised a brow curiously. "Why are you so anxious to get gas?"

"It's none of your business," Wanda growled. "I'll move you, if you won't do it yourself."

Mystique's yellow eyes narrowed. "You'll what? What's going on here?" She stared at Wanda and Fred. "Where are the others?"

"Gone," Wanda stated. "We're going to find them."

"Gone? Gone where?" Then the shapeshifter gasped as she was hit in the chest by a hex bolt. She fell backward and Wanda stepped over her body. "Come on, Blob!"

Fred looked terrified but he followed quickly, throwing glances over his shoulders at Mystique who was trying to get up and come after them. Wanda smirked as the woman struggled. She wouldn't be able to get up until Wanda and Fred were at least a mile down the road.

Fred cranked up the jeep and stared at Wanda, "I can't believe you did that!"

"She was in my way," Wanda said simply, buckling her seatbelt.

They backed out of the driveway as country music blared at them from the jeep's speakers. Wanda rolled her eyes at the warbling tune, but held her peace. She was getting her way after all.

"Wanda? Why do you care where Pietro is? You're not gonna try to hurt him are you?"

Wanda cracked her knuckles. How dare he ask her that?

"I can't take you there, if you're gonna hurt him."

Wanda was tempted to hit Fred with a hex bolt, but that might cause an accident, so instead she answered him. "I'm not going to hurt my brother."

"Oh. Then...why?"

Wanda was quiet. If the idiot couldn't figure it out, then she wasn't going to tell him. Fred cleared his throat and turned up the music.

Good boy; maybe he wasn't so stupid after all.

* * *

Author's Note: Well that's it. Did you like it, hate it, didn't care either way? Just let me know-- by REVIEWING! Thanks so much and take care!


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Note: :) Hello. It's been a little while, but here is Chapter 9. I hope you like it :).

Reviewer Responses:

girlonthem00n: Lol, hi back! I wish I was busy with school, but alas I took a semester off and have been working practically full-time at an awful job... Anyways, glad you were able to pick the story back up and still enjoy it :). Thanks for the review; hope you enjoy the chapter!

Ladyvelveeta: Lol, love the name ;). Aww...you liked the title :) Thankee :) You don't want to know why I chose it, lol. Good titlegood fic...hmm, can't say I've had the same experiences as you lol! The languages Pietro and Wanda speak are Romanian and Sinte-Romany. No, I didn't make the languages up, though it would have been really cool if I did :). Thanks for reviewing! Glad you enjoy the story, and I hope you like the new chapter! Take care!

Kaitourei: Hey, Miss Lady. How you be? Lol! Glad you like the characterization. I really kinda struggled with it, since I'm very behind on Marvel comics and such. Anyways, thanks for reviewing and take care! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Zero-Vision: :). Lol, that's the first poor Todd, I've gotten. Thanks for the review! Take care and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Burnbadart: Teddy bear at heart, huh? Suuuure you are.... looks away. Lol, Fred grunts, eats food, and plays 'Mommy' in my story :). And yes, he talks in full sentences and makes speeches, lol :). Sorry for the lack of updates. I had this chapter and the earlier ones already written before I started posting this story, and sadly to say the reason I stalled so long is because I have a few pages more written after the end of this chapter and nothing else. I was waiting until I had more :(. We'll see what happens...lol. Thanks for reviewing, as always, and take care! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

DemonRogue13: Thanks! Take care and I hope you like the chapter!

Nessie6: Lol, I think Pietro is just scrawny for his age personally. Yeah, Mystique did need a butt-kicking, lol, but I don't think what Wanda did constituted as one. I'll have to do something else to her later on ;). Aww... Give Freddy the benefit of the doubt. Driving isn't that hard, even if you are a little heavy ;). I agree with you about not letting Pietro drive... It would be a cold day in Hell, before I got in that car. I don't think Todd could reach the pedals of the car and be able to see over the dashboard actually, lol! Yeah, I know about the Inuyasha thing. You're so silly :). The guy who does Kouga's voice does Wolverine (and Duo Maxwell on Gundam Wing, if you're familiar with that :). Well, thank you for reviewing. I enjoy long reviews :) Take care and I hope you like this chapter!

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Chapter 9

Lance counted the white tiles of the ceiling as he listened to the quick beeping of a heart monitor and the hiss of oxygen pouring from a tank into a mask that covered Pietro's nose and mouth. McCoy said he wasn't taking in enough air when he breathed. Pietro laid on his back with his head slightly elevated by pillows. He mumbled through the mask, saying things in a strange garble of English, Romanian, and Sinte. Lance had given up trying to speak to him, since he wasn't sure if he was being understood. He instead held the hand free of IV's.

Poor kid. Lance couldn't help but feel guilty. His mind couldn't grasp the concept that Pietro would have fallen into this state even if he hadn't gone on the mall mission. Maybe if he'd made Pietro stay home from school and skip out on practices. All he had to do was stand up to Mystique, but... he'd been selfish. If he had told her no and rejected any attempts circumvent his final decision, she might have left them again, and then they would be stuck in the same rut they had been in before. Lance didn't think he could handle that again. His selfishness had nearly cost him a brother.

There was no prize worth that.

But... if he looked at it in Fred's light, it was a blessing in disguise. Not only was Pietro now getting the best treatment he possibly could, but they were all being given a second chance at Xavier's Institute. Lance didn't necessarily want to be there, but the kids in this group never had it hard. None of them would ever have to worry about many of the things that had become second nature to Lance in their pampered lives. He wanted another bite of the filling sensation of being carefree. He rubbed his sour stomach with the hand not holding Pietro's.

He had thrown up after Todd and Freddy left. He had locked himself inside the tiny bathroom in Pietro's room for 15 minutes, ignoring the inquiring knocks from Grey and Summers. When he'd finally come out of the bathroom, the room was empty aside from Pietro's still form. Lance was grateful for that. He wanted to be alone for a while.

Lance grimaced at the burning pain in his stomach and wondered if McCoy kept any Alka-Seltzer nearby. He frowned, knowing that his stomach problems probably weren't due to indigestion. With his rotten luck, he had an ulcer or better yet a tumor!

That would be nice.

Lance jumped as Pietro burst into a coughing fit that rattled his fragile frame so hard Lance thought he'd shatter. The silver-haired boy moaned between coughs and rolled toward Lance. His blue eyes opened a crack. "L... Lance?"

"Pietro? You're awake?" Lance stared at his friend. Pietro took in an audible breath and nodded before he was assaulted with another bout of severe coughing. His pale hands grabbed at the oxygen mask strapped to his face and fought to remove it. Lance immediately helped him with the task, removing the mask and helping Pietro to sit up and rubbing his back.

Lance turned his head from Pietro, when he heard the door open. McCoy had entered the room and was walking toward them holding a small blue basin and a box of tissues.

"Pietro, spit into the basin," McCoy said evenly, gently resting the basin on Pietro's knees. Lance's eyes went wide with fear as Pietro gasped, choked and finally gagged into the basin.

"Oh God... what's happening to him?" Lance demanded. Pietro had never sounded that bad at the boarding house. Just what was McCoy giving him?

"Nothing bad, Mr. Alvers. His lungs are filled with fluid and they are working to drain themselves," McCoy said, patting Pietro's back firmly. "The coughing is good. He would drown, if he did not."

Lance gulped at the thought of that as his momentary anger subsided. Drowning from within had to be one of the scariest experiences a person could have. You couldn't kick and splash to get to the surface to draw breath, because there was no surface. Pietro was slowly suffocating.

"It sounds pretty scary-- I know-- but believe me, it's helping him. I've given him an expectorant to loosen the congestion."

Lance frowned. He hoped the blue beast wasn't going to start talking in medical jargon to him again. He hadn't understood it the first time and he wasn't in the mind set to go for a second round.

Pietro's fit ended in hoarse sobs and Lance did his best to wrap his arms around the other boy's thin body, ignoring how uncomfortable it was. Pietro was so skinny, clutching him tightly was like sleeping without a cushion beneath your back.

"You're ok, Speedy. You're gonna be just fine," Lance murmured to the younger boy as he whimpered.

"L...Lance... Cînd fÄƒcut tu a lua aici?"

"Pietro, I can't understand you. Can you try to speak English?" Lance asked slowly, resting his head in Pietro's silver hair.

"I.... I wasn't speaking English? Sînt supa– I am... sorry. Better?"

"Yeah, kid," Lance smiled in relief.

"Why am I having such a problem?" Pietro moaned.

"It's the fever," McCoy spoke up, causing both Lance and Pietro to jump. They had forgotten he was in the room.

"As it recedes, your mind will clear. Lance, could you...?" McCoy held a syringe filled with clear liquid. He motioned to Pietro's IV and Lance nodded subtly. McCoy needed Lance to distract Pietro while he gave him more medicine via IV. Pietro's head was currently on Lance's shoulder, and Lance intended to keep it there.

"Are Freddy and Todd here?" Pietro asked; his voice and body seemed devoid of all strength.

"They were here for a little bit, then they went back tot he boarding house. Fred's going to bring some of our things in the morning."

"You're going to stay here with me?" Lance could hear the soft smile in Pietro's tone.

"Yeah. Did you think I'd leave you here alone? I gotta make sure the X-Geeks take care of you right, Pi." Lance rubbed his back.

"Thank you," Pietro sighed and was silent. The slight change in his raspy breathing indicated that he'd fallen asleep.

"All done," McCoy said, stepping away from the bed with an empty syringe.

"How do you think he's doing?" Lance frowned, easing Pietro back onto his propped up pillows.

McCoy disposed of the needle then looked at Lance thoughtfully. "If there are no more outburst like the one he had when he first got here, I think he'll be out of danger tomorrow."

Lance nodded as his gut clenched as he was reminded that all of the monitors that beeped and made strange noises were there because there was a real chance Pietro's systems would fail. McCoy gently strapped the oxygen mask back in place. "I'll be here monitoring him all night, Lance. You don't have to stay awake. I insist you get some rest; I can set you up in the room next to this one."

Lance shook his head vigorously. "I stay with Pietro."

McCoy sighed, shaking his head. "Alright Lance, but this cannot be a long a time arrangement. Would you like something to settle your stomach?"

Lance blinked in surprise. How had he...? Lance realized he had been massaging his middle again, "Uh...yeah. Thanks... Dr. McCoy."

"I'll be right back."

* * *

People actually lived in places like this? Wanda wondered as she and Fred pulled into the driveway. Fred slowly reached out to touch an intercom on his side, but before he could speak the gate began to swing open.

"Guess they know we're here," Fred said, and Wanda rolled her eyes. She couldn't wait to get out of the car with, 'Genius.'

Fred drove on through the gate and Wanda hopped out as soon as the jeep stopped. Fred followed after her at a leisurely pace. The front door was open and an older man with a gruff look on his face stood staring at them expectantly. "Professor Xavier told me you'd be coming, so I thought I'd be nice and open the gate. I'm guessing you're the witch the kids have been talking about since they got back from the mall?"

Wanda glared at the man as she stepped past him into the house. "Where's my brother?"

The man's brows raised, "Quicksilver's your brother?"

Fred entered behind her and closed the door.

Wanda narrowed her eyes.

"Hey, I'm doing you a favor, kid; the least you can do is show a little respect."

"He's my brother. Now where can I find him?" Wanda tried to lighten her tone. The man grunted and began to walk.

"Follow me," he said.

"Who's that?"

"It's the Witch from the mall! What's she doing here?"

"The Blob's back?"

"Who's that girl?"

Wanda ignored the voices she could hear floating from various corners of the house. She concentrated instead on following the man that was taking her to her brother.

She was led into what looked like a hospital wing and she shivered. She supposed hospitals would always send chills down her spine now. The man opened a door and poked his head inside.

Wanda heard Lance's voice.

"You guys got a visitor," the man said huskily. He stepped out of the door frame. "Don't cause trouble."

Wanda suppressed a growl before entering the room. Her heart leapt into her throat and her stomach plummeted to her knees at the sight of her brother lying so still with an oxygen mask strapped to his face and tubes and wires attached to him.

"What did you do to him?" Wanda's wild eyes landed on Lance, who gasped at her and jumped in front of Pietro's bed, blocking him from her view.

"Just back off, Wanda. You ain't getting past me!"

Wanda rolled her eyes at Lance, wanting to hex him out of her way, but the boy was standing much too close to her brother. She would not take the chance of hurting Pietro, not when he was defenseless. "I'm not here to hurt my brother."

Lance looked at her dubiously.

He was shaking, Wanda noticed. Why?

It was then that she saw just how pale and tired the boy looked. He was determined, but knew he would lose to her. Why was he putting himself in harm's way... for Pietro?

"What do you want then?" Lance asked her. She could feel his tenseness. He would attack her if he felt he had to; she was sure of it.

"To talk to him," Wanda said simply. She frowned when Lance still didn't move away.

"Why?'

"Because he's my brother and it's time!" Wanda tried not to shout; she really did, but Lance was trying her patience. He was like a mother wolf protecting her cub.

Lance tilted his head a bit and studied her. "He's asleep."

"When he wakes up then," Wanda hissed. "What happened? What's wrong with him?"

Lance blinked, seeming surprised at her sudden concern. "Wanda, what do you care...?"

"He's my brother!" Wanda did shout then. The room rattled a bit before she could calm down.

Lance held up a hand in peace. "But you weren't even talking to him this afternoon. What made you decide that you need to talk to him now? Did you get your change of heart after someone told you how sick he's gotten?"

Wanda frowned, shaking her head. "I made my decision earlier, but then he never came home." She took a step toward the bed and Lance moved aside, going back to the chair he'd been sitting in when she'd entered.

"What's wrong with him?" Wanda stood at the foot of the bed staring at Pietro. He was so thin and fragile. She didn't try to touch him, afraid to shatter him for a moment.

"He's got some kind of pneumonia. It's really kicking his ass," Lance said softly.

Slowly she walked to the opposite side of the bed from Lance and stood over her brother. His silver hair was matted with sweat and damp tendrils curled across his forehead in elf-locks. Tenderly she brushed them aside with the knuckles of her right hand, flinching at the heat that met her curled fingers.

"Dr. McCoy said he should be better in the morning," Lance told her. "He's been really weird tonight, coming in and out and stuff like that. He doesn't even speak English most of the time, so nobody can understand him."

Wanda gave a tiny half-smile. Pietro always did have the hardest time figuring out where he was and who he was with when he was ill or very groggy when they had been little. Fortunately, it didn't happen very often, and his illnesses usually only lasted a day and were hardly ever serious. She felt a tiny twinge of fear at that thought. He'd been sick with this thing for over a week, and he was steadily getting worse in her eyes.

She started a bit when Pietro stirred under her hand.

"Wanda?" He rasped. Blue eyes opened and shaky hands reached for the clear mask over his mouth and nose and began pulling at it. Wanda frowned at his actions and glanced at Lance who was watching them both with interest.

"Is...is it ok for him to..."

Lance smirked at her stuttering and reached over to help Pietro with the mask. "I don't think he likes it much."

"Wanda? De... ce... esti... tu aici?" _Why are you here?_

Wanda blinked. Romanian. She hadn't heard the language in years, but strangely she'd understood what he had said. He wanted to know why she was there. Would he understand English if she spoke it back to him?

"See, I told you he doesn't speak English," Lance commented wryly.

Wanda rolled her eyes at him and suddenly, words came to her. "Eu am venit la spre a vedea tu. Esti tu perfect? Sînte nelinste." _I came to see you. Are you all right? I'm worried._

Lance's mouth scraped the floor.

"Sînte escarfa." _I'm scared._

Wanda stroked his hair gingerly and searched for a place to sit. Finding no chair on her side of the bed, she remained standing. He was afraid, and he had every right to be. His hyperactive system should have ejected the virus a few hours after it had invaded.  
"Tu vei a fi fin," Wanda said soothingly. _You'll be fine._

"A face nu plecare eu. A face pe plac la?" _Stay with me. Please?_

"Vointa a voi nu," Wanda assured him that she was going to stay with him.

"Thank....you," Pietro mumbled, letting himself fall slip back into dreams.

"You're welcome," Wanda whispered back. She walked around the other side of the bed and took the empty chair next to Lance's to drag it back around to the other side. She took Pietro's thin hand in hers, ignoring the IV, and locked her fingers around his. When he woke again, he would feel her and know she was still there. If he was coherent, they would talk, and Wanda shuddered about what the outcome of that talk may be. She didn't want to hate her brother like she hated their father, but she could if she needed too. But for the past few days and the moments now just holding his hand...

Please don't make me have to hate you Pietro. Please...

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Author's Note: :) Well? Let me know; please review!


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